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awkward-tension-art · 9 days

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Clones as expectant fathers

I am an actual nero-cancer researcher. I have a job and a degree. And my ADHD brain saw sad military men and went “I want that one”

Clones: Rex, Wolffe, Fox, Cody and Fives

CW: pregnancy, the clones all have a ‘secret’ SO, They are expecting a baby, A little angsty with Fox, there's slight mentions of smut with Fives (if you squint), swearing, this is just supposed to be a good time, its not reader insert

Minors do not interact!

Rex

Terrified. Also overjoyed. But mostly terrified.

He’s a soldier. Captain of the 501st, the most….adventurous of the GAR. His chances of dying on the battlefield and leaving his SO behind are higher than the average clone

And now he may leave behind his child? His kid may grow up without a father

He gets nervous. Anxious and antsy, and it's very VERY easy for Anakin to figure out Rex isn’t entire OK

Rex doesn’t even need to tell Anakin.

Skywalker takes one look at him and just KNOWS.

“Congrats, Rex.” “...on what, sir?” “If it's a boy, name him after me.” “WHAT!?”

Ahsoka needs to be told and she’s more excited than Rex when she finds out.

“Come on Rex! Name them after me! The republic needs an Ahsoka jr!” “And if the baby is a boy?” “Don’t name them after skyguy, please!”

Most of the 501st don't know. Too many people knowing raises the chance of less accepting individuals knowing. And if that happens, Rex, his SO and his baby may be in danger.

It’s forbidden for the clones to have SO’s, not to mention babies. It could end with Rex being decommissioned or reconditioned if it was found out he had both

Rex will visit and help as much as he can every chance he gets. He feels terrible for leaving his SO for long stretches of time during the pregnancy.

He WANTS to be there…he just can’t. Not while the war was going on

Despite his terror, Rex is…overjoyed

He didn’t think children were possible for him. He knew it could happen, but he didn’t think HE would ever know this happiness

The first time he feels his baby move in his SO, he’d get this sweetest smile on his face. He’ll kiss the baby bump and just murmur words of love in mando’a

He falls head-over-heels in love all over again

As the due date approaches, Anakin asks an important question

“Captain, I need to know when your baby might be born.” “...why, sir?” “Because I need to know when to take extended leave.”

Anakin tells Padme, and she is beyond sweet. Even visits Rex’s SO and the two have a wonderful friendship

All in all, Rex is both excited and anxious. But having so much support from Anakin, Ahsoka and Padme (and his other brothers who find out much later) helps him a lot

Wolffe

More relaxed. And by relaxed I mean he hides his anxiety better. And it doesn’t exactly hit him as hard

Partly because Plo Koon and the entire Wolfpack knows about his relationship already.

So you bet your ass the pack celebrates when Wolffe tells them he's going to be a father

Plo Koon especially is excited

“How wonderful, new life being born during times of war” “I’m not naming my child after you, general Plo.” “Nonsense! The child will be a girl.”

During battle, Wolffe finds himself being protected by his brothers and General a tad more

At first he writes it off as a coincidence, but then Boost lets slip during a battle “You gotta get back to your little one!”

He gives his men a bit of a lecture. He’s not incapable of fighting or defending himself. He thinks the message gets across but Plo chimes in with, “Ah yes, the stern words of a father already!”

Wolffe would probably see his SO more frequently than Rex. Just because Plo would more than likely spend more time on Coruscant.

He’s definitely protective. As in, waking up in the middle of the night to check all the windows, protective. Keeping an arm around his SO, protective. Every symptom or sign of discomfort he calls a medical droid, protective.

He’s not stupid, he is well aware that by having an SO and a child on the way he's in violation of several rules. All of which, when broken, would have him decommissioned

But dammit, he's not letting that happen. Wolffe will be there for his SO and his baby, no matter what

Since he’s able to spend more time with his SO, he’s there to feel the first movements of his baby.

It sort of causes him to short-circuit for a second. It hits him that yes, this is a life that he and his SO both created. Out of love.

Wolffe makes a swear that he’s going to protect his baby at all costs

Grandpa Plo does as well, but the Wolfpack doesn’t know that

Fox (kinda angst)

First of all congratulations to the SO for actually managing to be Fox’s SO

They got to be something special for the head of Palpatine’s personal guard to break rules and regulations and find himself an SO

Speaking of Palpatine, congratulations to Fox! Your SO is now in even more danger!

No, seriously. Palpatine knows before Fox. No one knows how, but he knows.

And he absolutely will use Fox’s SO as leverage to keep him under control

And Fox knows this, so he behaves. More so than usual.

He’s not blind. Hes fiercely loyal to the republic, but one step out of line and the (very few) things he cares about will be killed

Which…is why Fox may come across as cold or uninterested when his SO informs him of their pregnancy

A part of him is terrified, he just won’t show it

He’s not going to be more affectionate or anything. He actually acts pretty normal. Which is standoffish.

Despite his…demeanor, he actually manages to be present for the entirety of the pregnancy. It helps being a Coruscant guard, which means he’s more present than all the other clones.

He’s not moving mountains or anything, but he’ll get snacks in the middle of the night in case of cravings

No one else knows about Fox and his SO. not even his own men. He refuses to tell anyone.

Its for his SO’s protection

But Palpatine, the sick fuck, slips some words to get Fox’s nerves into overdrive

“This war is taking such a toll. So many dead children…so many grief stricken parents” “Sir?” “Oh nothing. Just stating the fact that the loss of an innocent life, such as…a baby, is always a tragedy. Wouldn’t you agree, commander?”

He found himself walking home a bit faster that day and hugs his SO a little tighter that night

Fox cares, in his own way. He’s just beyond stressed and anxious. But you wouldn’t know. He hides it behind a mask.

It's actually Padme that finds out. And she feels somewhat bad for Fox. She thinks his anxiety comes from the fact that clones aren't allowed SO’s or children

Which, it is, but theres the added threat of fucking Palpatine.

She ends up getting him to tell her the truth and she swears to secrecy. Even offers to hire his SO as some sort of assistant, if only so Fox can be closer to his SO

Hear me out, he actually breaks down when he feels the baby move. He can’t fully handle it anymore and shuts down.

This is a baby. His baby. They're alive and already so loved.

Something in him clicks and he accepts Padme’s help.

His terror gets easier, ever so slightly. But he keeps his collected and calm front.

Cody

“General Kenobi-” “Ah! Commander Cody! Congratulations!”

goddamnit.exe

Cody is a tad more relaxed than Rex, but more tense than Wolffe

He knows Kenobi isn’t going to punish him or force him back to Kamino for decommissioning, he’s still a little on guard.

But, since Kenobi knows, Anakin does. So does Ahsoka. Which means Rex knows.

goddamnit2.exe

More people in the 501st know than in the 212th which gives him the biggest headache

Waxer knows though. Cody had to tell someone that wasn’t a sarcastic general

He does a good job hiding his worry though

Cody is able to spend about the same amount of time as Rex with his SO

He doesn’t feel as bad as Rex when it comes to the lack of presence he has during the pregnancy

It's war. It sucks and he’d prefer to be there for his SO, but he’d also prefer SO and child have freedom from the separatists

I will say, he is pretty attentive when he isn’t off in space.

Foot rubs, shoulders massages, helping with cravings

One thing Cody does is that he’ll wrap his arms under his SO’s baby bump and lift it slightly, giving his SO’s back some relief

He really loves to do this because his SO just melts

Hear me out, Cody gets giggly when he feels the baby move/kick the first time

His palm is on the bump and he feels that first little flutter against his hand

404 Commander Cody has his amygdala broken from joy. Reboot?

He’ll actually tell Kenobi about it because he’s so happy.

“That's wonderful Cody, but I still question one thing.” “What is it, sir?” “How you managed to get laid to begin with.”

Goddamnit3.exe

Fives

“Hey everyone! I’m gonna be a dad!”

Ecstatic is not a strong enough word

Also not subtle at all

There is a solid 3 hours until everyone in the 501st knows

He’s told Echo before the first hour. Rex knew within 2 hours.

Fives is BEYOND over the moon

He gets this small smile on his face that just doesn’t go away

Whenever he’s not with his SO, he definitely calls them every day. He wants updates on the little one

Also, seeing his SO with a baby bump? Unlocks something inside his brain.

Fives is incredibly horny when he’s with his SO. He’ll be rubbing their middle and getting a puppy dog look in his eye.

Only if his SO is in the mood of course! He’d never try and be forceful

He’s probably the clone that takes the distance the hardest. He debates taking a ship and making a run for Coruscant on more than one occasion.

In the end he settles to ask Anakin for extended leave.

Anakin is also extremely happy for Fives. Like with Rex, he makes a “name the baby after me” joke

Fives brings that up to his SO and nearly gets smacked. He also makes a “Fives jr.” joke and actually does get smacked.

When Fives feels the baby kick, he gets high on happiness. Actual mumbling incoherent words of love and affection in Mando’a

Lots and lots of “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum”

He also gets very VERY affectionate with his SO

Kisses his SO’s face a lot. Even as a greeting, he’ll just start peppering their cheeks with pecks

Also probably the only one ballsy enough to ASK his general for extended leave

“Excuse me, general Skywalker? I’ll need to take leave at this date.” “Oh, yea sure. You know what? That seems like a good time for all the men to take a break. Thanks, Fives.”

He’s also probably the only one ballsy enough to actually take his new born baby onto a fucking battleship to introduce everyone.

“This is your uncle Rex. This is your uncle Echo and your uncle Tup. That's your auntie Ahsoka!” “Fives what the FUCK are you doing?!” “Introducing the family, captain.”

#the clone wars x reader #captain rex x reader #commander wolffe #Commander Wolffe x reader #captain rex #commander fox #commander fox x reader #commander cody #commander cody x reader #arc trooper fives #fives x reader #star wars the clone wars #star wars headcanons #tw pregnancy #fluff #headcanons #tcw x reader

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vodika-vibes · 1 month

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Hi, love~ I am back with request #7 (last one)

This time, I'm choosing Fox, with an opal, and at midday. He needs some love. Some *good* love. Real good love. The kind of love that makes him realize he's worth loving. Give this man the bestest love for me 🫶🏻

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Not A Question Of Worth

Summary: You remind Fox that your love for him isn’t conditional.

Pairing: Commander Fox x Reader

Word Count: 744

Prompt: Opal - Faithful Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I'm not sure if I hit the prompt for this one. I had an idea and I wanted to write that, but maybe I also did? I dunno, I'm getting sick and it's making everything hard. Also. If you wanted to send me a prompt for my baby boy Dogma I would love you forever and a day. 🥺

You know when Fox has had a bad day.

Partly because Thire and Thorn and Stone, sometimes all of them, will shoot you a message giving you heads up. But also because you know Fox. And you know his moods.

So when you get a message just before you leave work for the day, a warning from Stone that Fox had a really bad day, you’re already planning on what you can do to make his evening better.

On your way home, you stop by his favorite restaurant and grab the food you ordered in advance, you pop into the florist and grab a bouquet of his favorite small purple flowers, and you dip into a bakery to buy a premade cake.

If you’d had more time, everything would have been individually ordered, but such is life you suppose.

You hurry home, and you’re not surprised when you step into the home you share with Fox and you hear the shower running. If the day was as bad as Stone implied, your Fox will want to wash the day off his skin before he sees you.

Your perfect man seems to think that if he touches you after a bad day, he’ll do nothing but hurt you. Which is silly, but if it helps him feel better than you’re not going to question it.

In any event, the fact that he’s distracted, means that you’re able to get the room ready. The flowers are put in a vase and set on the table. The curry is removed from the containers and placed on the fancy china that your mom gave you when you moved out of her house. The cake is put on a fancy platter and cut into slices. Two scented candles are lit and set a safe distance away from the flowers.

And then you dart into the bedroom and peel off your work clothes for something more comfortable.

And you managed to do so in less than five minutes.

You’re doing one last check of the kitchen, making sure that everything looks perfect, when the shower stops. You turn to the bedroom door and, only moments later, Fox steps out of the bedroom clad in his sleep pants and nothing else.

It takes everything in you to not swoon for him. He really is so handsome that you just want to cry.

“Cyare,” Fox’s voice is rough, “Welcome home.”

He looks exhausted, you note. You’re glad you prepared everything before he got out of the shower. Now he just has to enjoy it.

You walk over to him and slide your arms around his waist, “Stone sent me a message and said you had a rough day.” You stand on your toes and kiss him, “Did the shower help?”

“A little.” He leans his forehead against yours, “I meant to have dinner ready for you-”

You beam at him, “You’re so sweet!” You lightly pull back and take his hands with yours, “Luckily, I took care of it.” Gently, you tug him into the kitchen, and he pauses in the doorway.

You watch him scan the room. From the flowers and candles, to the food and the cake, and then he focuses his gaze on you, “What’s all of this, cyare?”

“Well, Stone said you had a rough day, so I thought I’d try to make it a little better. Do you like it?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he turns to look at you, “I’m not worth all of this. I didn’t do anything for-”

You reach up and press your fingers against his lips, gently interrupting him. “My love is not conditional, Fox. You don’t have to do anything to earn my love. You have it anyway.”

He stares at you, and you can’t help but hope that maybe, this time, he’ll believe you when you say that. Though you’ll repeat it as often as you need to.

Fox sighs and presses a kiss against the pads of your fingers. “I’m not worthy of you. You should be with someone brighter…like Cody.”

“It’s not a question of worth, Fox.” You kiss him gently and then kiss him again and again, “I love you. I choose you. It’s as simple as that.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he ducks his head and kisses you deeply, “I love you” He says against your lips, “Thank you for loving me enough to try and make my day better.”

#star wars #tcw #vodika-vibes 500 followers celebration #commander fox x reader #fox x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #gn!reader fic #answered asks

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 5 months

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Hi! *Waves like a weird-o*

You probably already know this, but I absolutely love your writing and you truly are so talented. Please never stop!! Even if you just write for yourself!!!

So I do have a mini request if you don't mind of course. Post-sex cramps? For female reader? Clone of your choice of course and any way you wanna write it; NSFW or NFW.

No rush of course!! Thank you!! ❤️

- Hales

And here is cat + kitten(s) for your troubles. And puppies if you like those better. And a snake if you like those too.

hiiii friend! *waves back like a weirdo* first of all, thank you so much?? for the kind words?? omg. I appreciate you so much—and the pictures of the baybiessssss! I love all of them, please give them snoot boops for me (if they're yours ofc). anyways, I hope this is somewhat in line with what you envisioned! I opted for the fluff/SFW route because I need that tonight lol enjoy! <3

Comforting Touches

Summary: Some HCs and blurbs about how the commander batch comforts you through some post-sex cramping.

Warnings: no actual sex described but still mature content so 18+, minors get outta here; f!reader, fluff, i guess hurt/comfort?, big strong stoic men being soft and loving

Word Count: 1.1k

dividers by @saradika and @dystopicjumpsuit

Cody

Like with many other things in his life, Cody is nothing if not thorough. Meticulous in the way that he picks you apart and puts you back together, painstaking in the image of self-confidence and dominance that he exudes when he’s intimate with you.

And just as attentive to your needs after he makes you finish several times. If you wince in pain from the cramps beginning to twist your insides, despite the many orgasms he’d given you, he’s all over that.

Tilts your head to the sides to check your vitals, gets you meds, and frowns when you try to shoo him off. “You’re not goin’ anywhere until you’re good, cyar’ika.”

More than anything, you’re just grateful to still be sitting on the edge of his bunk. Between the shakiness in your legs from the strain of having him buried inside you just a few minutes ago, and the pain tugging at your body, you have no energy to stand right now. Cody sighs, a furrow deepening between his brows; you can’t resist the impulse to smooth his skin with your thumb. You trace the outline of his scar when his expression doesn’t relax.

“Did I cause this?” he asks. Despite the way he tries to hide it, you can hear the concern underlying his words.

Sighing, you shrug with one shoulder. “Kinda. But it’s okay,” you hurry to assure him. “It’s, um, most often caused by...intense orgasm. Or just intense sex. Happens now and then.”

He blinks at you, your words clearly taking a moment to compute. Almost unbidden, a small groan escapes him. “O-Oh.”

“Mhm.” You clench your teeth as another wave of cramps knifes through you. “Worth it.”

He cups your face in one hand, the other resting on your bare thigh, kneading your soft flesh. “Good. Because I can’t promise I won’t be able to keep myself from making you cum like that again.”

His words are a promise, and you know Cody never breaks promises.

Wolffe

Listen I know we all think Wolffe is this hard-ass, mean dom (and he is) but he’s also very caring. Hard shell, gooey insides.

The minute you show signs of being in any kind of discomfort he’s right there, cradling you to his chest, smoothing his warm palms over your thighs, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple.

“Where’s it hurt, mesh’la?”

You curl in on yourself within Wolffe’s embrace, your body trying to wrap itself around the dull pain blossoming in your center. Though pleasure lingers in your limbs, this unfortunate side-effect of sex occasionally makes an appearance, particularly after a good romp with Wolffe. Normally it’s not so bad, but right now, you just want to squeeze into a ball and sleep until the cramping fades.

“M’sorry if I hurt you,” Wolffe rumbles in your ear, his voice soft and quiet. “I know I can be rough.”

“S’not that,” you say with a small smile. “Just...does this when it’s really good.”

“That seems counterintuitive.”

You bark a short laugh. “Tell that to whoever designed the female human body.”

Wolffe tucks your head under his chin and presses a large, warm hand over your tummy to act as an impromptu heating pad until the cramps dissipate, his lips pressing chaste, close-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulders to help distract you. You hum in contentment, drawing lazy circles on his bare hip, relishing how his muscles flex under your touch.

Fox

If the cramps take a bit to set in, and you’re both already re-dressed and ready to go about your days, Fox will still immediately put his very busy schedule on hold to make sure you’re okay.

Gives you pain meds, extra water, and kisses you sweetly. “Why don’t you lay on the couch here for a bit until you feel better, sarad?”

If/when you protest, he simply gives you his best deadpan look—which is quite good, considering he’s perfected it through use on his men—and crosses his arms, cocking his hip.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, the slight smile tugging at your lips vanishing into a twisted grimace at the next wave of cramping. Fox sighs and ushers you to the old, ratty couch he’d acquired for his office. He guides you to sitting down at the least, and nods in approval when you draw your legs up to your chest and hug your knees to put pressure on your center where the cramps are the worst.

When he goes to turn away, you reach out to snag his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Fox?”

“Hm?” He looks down at you, graying curls sweeping over his forehead.

“Sit with me?”

“Of course.” He graces you with a soft smile, retreats for just a moment to retrieve his datapad, and settles into the couch next to you. He rests one arm along the back of the couch; you snuggle into his warmth, grateful that he hasn’t yet put on the top half of his armor, and let your eyes drift shut, listening to the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his fingers over his datapad while he works. You’d be able to fall asleep there, in post-orgasmic near-bliss.

Rex

Rex realizes that something is amiss the moment that you don’t roll over to cuddle him after he returns from getting you a warm rag to clean off with.

When you simply groan your answer, the post-sex cramps clenching your insides a little more intensely than you’re used to, he’s instantly in Protective Partner Mode.

“I’ve got you, cyare.”

With strong, steady hands, Rex gently repositions you on the bed so that you’re lying on your front, before settling his knees to either side of your thighs. His thumbs, calloused and rough, rub slow, comforting circles along your spine, from your butt to your neck and back. Though he knows by now that he can’t do much in the way of helping your cramps aside from offering pain meds (which he retrieves as soon as he realizes what’s going on), he can offer you relaxation of other sorts.

His practiced hands work away all the knots and kinks in your back, urging your entire body into a state of bliss beyond the post-orgasm glow.

“How’s this, cyare?” he asks, voice quiet, contemplative.

“Feels s’good,” you mumble, face smushed into the sheets. “Thank you, Rex.”

“Always.” He leans over you to press a kiss to the side of your head. “I’d say that I’d stop doing whatever causes these cramps, but—”

“Don’t you dare,” you interrupt, playfully glaring out of the corner of your eyes. “You know damn well the orgasms you give are worth this discomfort.”

He preens just a little at that, and if he happens to give your butt a squeeze or two while resuming his massage, well, that’s his deal.

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @lem-hhn @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @originalcollectionartistry

#commander cody x reader #commander wolffe x reader #commander fox x reader #captain rex x reader #rhiwrites #rhiplies #cody x reader #wolffe x reader #fox x reader #rex x reader #tcw x reader

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cloneficgiftexchange · 1 year

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All of the fics from the Clone xReader Gift Exchange are up! If you missed some of the amazing fics written for this event, here is a list of them!! They are organized by character and are in alphabetical order by title.

If you liked a story, consider reblogging it! Reblogs are a great way to show appreciation for an author’s work. reblogs to signal boost this list are greatly appreciated as well.

NSFW fics are strictly 18+ and are marked as such.

Across the Stars by @wanderer-six (NSFW)

Somewhere to Start by @cioneo

The Way You Look Tonight by @miseries-mistress

Untitled by @mayonnaisepudding

Always by @writing-positivelyexisting

i told you not to follow me by @burningfieldof-clover

Sunshine by @moonlight-sonata99

Untitled by @techs-ass

don’t you know by @221bshrlocked (NSFW)

enough for you by @miaowshacat

Heart Made of Flesh by @dragonrider9905

Just in Time by @pizza-writes

Meeting the Family by @haven-is-happy

Not Just For Show by @ghostofskywalker

By Your Side Tonight by @toomanybandstocare

Challenge Accepted by @of-stardust-and-dreams

Open Your Eyes by @tecker

Crescendo by @wizardofrozz

Insidious Visions by @agenteliix

Let the Sun In by @exxasperatedauthor

The Escape by @chicknstripz

A Match Made in a Classroom by @melliejellybellybean

Begonias by @diviluscorner

Bleed For Love by anonymous (hosted on @staycalmandhugaclone)

Don't Be Afraid by @echos-girlfriend

Growing Into Love by @ladysongmaster

Jealous by @knightprincess

Personal Tastes by @l-lend

The Force Works in Mysterious Ways by @staycalmandhugaclone (NSFW)

Yours & Mine by @embeanwrites

Falling For You by @masterjedilenawrites

Born For This by @arctrooper69

Lucky by @snippy-tano

i remember... by @221bshrlocked (NSFW)

Into the Forest I Go by @fives-lover

it's always been you by @obixwan

It's Gonna be Fine? by @loving-the-cambridges

Just This Once, Everybody Lives by @l-lend

Precious Soul by @wizardmando

Slowly But Surely by @ghostofskywalker

This New Reality by @angelltheninth

Circumstance by @captainpains

Jogan Rolls For Two by @theunderscorekinginyellow (NSFW)

Logical by @photogirl894

Pretty Boy by @manofworm

Don't Let Me Go by @rainydaydream-gal18

Fine Line by @homie-one-kenobi

Pack Mentality by @corona-one

I Like You a Lot by @imarvelatthestars

#CFGE23 #commander cody x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb echo x reader #fives x reader #commander fox x reader #tbb hunter x reader #arc trooper jesse x reader #clone medic kix x reader #captain rex x reader #tbb tech x reader #commander wolffe x reader #tbb wrecker x reader

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merlincmgirl · 1 month

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Just A Bit Of Contraband

Word Count: 1651

Reader: Gender Neutral

Summary: You really did just want to help Fox and his brothers, but maybe there's a better way than sneaking around the Senate building at night.

Author's Note: This is the first time I've written for Fox, so I hope it's okay. And mention of annoying little shit of a brother Thorn!

Cyare - beloved, love

Osik'la - messed up, screwed up, horrible

Sneaking into the Senate building was no small feat and you were beyond lucky that most, if not all the Senators and staff had gone home for the night. You were on a mission. A very important mission to help the Coruscant Guards do their jobs during this terrible war. Up ahead of you was the room that you had arranged to meet your contact in. It had been in a room you had been in only once or twice, only for a few minutes and never on your own. You just hoped that it would be empty now. Tapping open the button to let you in, you were glad to see that your contact was already there, pressed to the back of the room and hiding in the shadows himself.

“I’ve got the stuff” you whispered, sneaking towards the figure in the break room. Commander Thorn only sighed in relief, stepping forward into the light that filtered through the small window that let it in from the corridor outside. Carefully, he quickly examined the small packages that you handed to him.

“These are perfect. You don’t realise how much we’ll need this. Senate’s holding a fundraiser, security is going to be a nightmare. You know Fox is going to have a field day” Thorn complained, slipping the packs into his belt as much as he could.

“Anything I can do to support the war effort, Commander” you replied cheekily, pulling more packages out of your bag.

The light flickered on overhead as the door slid open, revealing none other but Marshall Commander Fox himself.

“Cyare? What are you doing here?” Fox’s modulated voice came through his helmet’s speakers. You squeaked, unable to do anything but hide the packages behind your back. It wasn’t the smartest of moves, not in the least because it made you look more guilty than you were. Even through his helmet you could still feel Thorn’s side eye but you ignored him.

“Nothing! I was just waiting for you!” you excused, a shaky smile spread over your face. Maker! You could lie as well as the clones it would seem.

“Thorn? What’s going on?” Fox demanded, turning to his vod who was shuffling the packages onto the clip of his belt behind him. There was less patience in his voice now for his fellow commander, and Thorn seemed to sense that like all little brothers could.

“Fox! I was just telling your cyare that you’re probably going to be working late because of the security detail” Thorn stated, and if you hadn’t had known any better, you would have believed him. Well, perhaps you were a worse liar than a clone.

Fox hummed, coming up closer to you and standing in front of you, arms crossed across his chest and helmet tilted down to give you an analysing look. “Hand it over” he instructed, hand outstretched and expecting.

“What?” you cried, floundering for a second at how quick he was to figure you out. You should have known really, Fox could read you like an open book any day of the week.

Fox didn’t even need to look over to Thorn to know that he was trying to slide away from the pair of lovers and closer to the exit. Almost like if he tried to stay out of Fox’s line of sight then he’d be free to escape. “Stay!” he growled head not even turning in his direction, and you couldn’t help but gape at Thorn’s retreating form.

“Thorn! What about we’re in this together?” you gasped, annoyed at the Commander who was so ready to high-tail it out of this situation.

“Sorry vod’ika, but you’re more likely to get out of this than me! I’m not going to be stuck on patrol in the lowest levels again for a week!” Thorn protested, holding up his hands in surrender.

Fox let out a warning call of your name and you winced, before slumping against the counter that was digging into your back. “Alright, alright, but please don’t be mad. We were only trying to help” you sighed, handing over the packet that you had been hiding in your bag. It crinkled in Fox’s grip as you shuffled around nervously on your feet in front of him. You were unsure how he would react.

“Alderaanian caf beans?” Fox frowned, unable to believe that this was what you were sneaking into the Coruscant Guard Headquarters. He had wondered what you and his idiotic brother could be up to, but he didn’t think you would be sneaking in contraband caf beans. What the hell were you two up to?

“Please don’t be mad. I know you’re always telling me that I shouldn’t be wasting my credits on you and that it’s not my responsibility to keep you sane and awake at 4am. But I wanted to do something to help. You haven’t slept for the past 3 days, and I haven’t seen you in nearly as long. And I’m not complaining but I want to make sure you’re okay. And Thorn was telling me that you hadn’t been taking any breaks and Palpatine was being a kriffing shithead and I was worried” you hurried to explain, chest tightening as you worried that Fox would hate you for interfering with his job as the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guards.

Thorn winced at that, ignoring the glare that his older brother shot his way. He knew he would be getting into shit for telling you exactly what Fox was getting up to when you weren’t there. Especially not looking after himself. You were always telling Fox he needed to look after himself more. Take more rest, eat food that wasn’t rations and drink something that wasn’t caf every now and again.

“So I thought maybe making sure that you had some decent caf would help, you know, keep you awake for all the awful shit Palpatine is no doubt going to put you through because he’s the worst, and really he should be shot. And if you need volunteers, then I’ll be the first in line to shoot that motherf-” you rambled on, before Fox slid a hand over your mouth; before he or someone else heard any more and would have to arrest you for some ridiculous shit like treason.

Seeming to take a breath and stop rambling, you looked up at Fox, waiting for his reaction.

“You, get out of here. I’ll deal with you later” Fox ordered his brother, who sent you a quick thumbs up and ran out of the break room. “You… you should be careful what you say cyare. Who knows who’s listening in this building” he sighed, taking off his helmet with his other hand and settling on your waist. “Can I let go now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. Accepting your rolling eyes and nod of agreement, he let the hand slip down and squeeze your other hip.

“Are you mad?” you whispered, hoping he wouldn’t be too angry with you. It wasn’t like you were sneaking around for your own benefit. You truly did want to help Fox and his brothers out.

“Course I’m not mad, I’m just worried, cyare. Sneaking around the Senate building after dark, breaking at least a dozen security laws and protocols and making me think we had a thief breaking into the barracks was not the best decision you’ve ever made Cyare. I dread to think what you could do if you had more resources. But it can’t happen again, do you understand me?” Fox rebuked, gripping onto your waist and bringing you into him as close as he could get you. It wasn’t like any reprimand he’d ever given to his men, but sneaking around Senate and GAR buildings were a sure way to find trouble. Trouble he may not always be able to get you out of. It worried him too much to think of you hurt.

“I understand, I’m sorry Fox. I just wanted to make things better for you and your brothers. I know you haven’t been sleeping well, I just thought this might be able to help better than the mud water that they serve you” you sighed, biting your lip and resting your hands on the cool plastoid of his armour.

Fox cupped your face, bringing you up to look into his dark, expressive eyes. They held exhaustion, worry and no small amount of love. Being able to see him clearer now without his helmet always took your breath away. His greying hair at the temples fell across his face in soft curls, the scars that ran across his nose was slightly lighter than his usual tan tone. Maker he was beautiful, and you would tell him that every single day until he believed you. Shaking his head at whatever he could see on your face, he let out a small smile, thumb rubbing softly against your cheekbone. “Even if you shouldn’t be wasting your credits on us, and it’s the Republic’s responsibility to fund our caf addictions to keep this osik’la planet safe and running, thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without your big heart, taking care of me and my men” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to yours to silence any reply.

“Now, how about we go back to yours and I can show you just how thankful I have to have a cyar’ika like you looking after me?” he hummed, resting his forehead against yours.

“That sounds perfect to me, Commander” you smiled, pushing his curls away from his face and leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his own lips. He just grinned, tucking the packet of caf beans into his belt before grabbing his helmet and pulling you out of the break room. After all, he was due a break and Thorn would cover for him.

#commander fox x reader #commander fox #star wars #star wars x reader #commander fox x you #the clone wars #sw tcw #tcw #star wars tcw #coruscant guard #commander thorn #marshal commander fox #marshal commander fox x reader

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wizardofrozz · 1 year

Text

Shadow Play

Commander Fox x senator!reader (fem), Senator Farr, Commander Thorn, and mention of Commander Stone

Word Count: ~3.7k

Warnings: NSFW, this is literally just filth, unprotected sex, exhibition, creampie, fluff, Fox being a tease

Summary: Seeing their favorite senator getting wrecked by their commander was certainly not in the Coruscant Guard’s mission briefing for today.

A/N: I finally had the motivation to write some Fox smut thanks to this art. Huge thanks to @homie-one-kenobi for all the encouragement and help editing ❤️ Writing this has reduced me to a puddle so please enjoy 😂

Lights flashed across the rows of seats, making you squint as another Mon Calamari dancer twirled elegantly. You tried to focus on the choreography, praying it would hold your attention but no matter what, you still couldn’t force yourself to enjoy the ballet. Watching it for a third time wasn’t changing your opinion, yet it wasn’t like you could’ve declined the offer. Your eyes flickered to the balcony opposite you, noting Fox’s absence for the fifth time in less than an hour, borderline glaring at the unfortunate Corrie taking his place.

A small part of you hated the poor sentry, his red armor acting as a constant reminder that for the last 21 rotations and 17 hours since Fox left for an off-world assignment, your bed had been cold and empty. Your eyes finally drifted away from the trooper and just barely stopped yourself from rolling your eyes at the small group of senators whispering praises. While you agreed that the performers were exceptional, you couldn’t follow the plot, leaving you to count down the seconds until the next intermission. A small part of you wished that Riyo or Padme were there to make the whole experience a little more bearable.

Years of etiquette training was the only thing that stopped you from jumping out of your seat when a booming voice announced the second intermission. Your aid that was standing near the back of the senatorial box shot you a sympathetic look and you appreciated the gesture even if there was nothing they could do to help. Just as the door was within reach, the faint call of your name had you stopping in your tracks, forcing your expression to remain pleasant.

“Senator Farr,” you greeted, managing a small smile. You had nothing against the Rodian senator, you quite liked him, but you really weren’t in the mood for small talk. You expected him to ask for your interpretation of the ballet only to surprise you when he ushered you into the bustling hall.

“How many more acts are there?” he whispered, leaning in to keep the conversation somewhat private. Your mouth twisted to the side in a poor attempt at hiding your amusement.

“Three,” you replied, chewing on your top lip when Senator Farr’s already large eyes seemed to grow bigger. “I plan to feign a stomach bug for the next two.”

“Will it be any less believable if we both do?” he mused, glancing over your shoulder at the cluster of senators still talking about Act 2.

“Probably more believable,” you snickered, scratching the corner of your mouth to cover your persistent grin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m not feeling well.”

“Hm, now that you mention it,” Farr sighed, his forehead wrinkling in a show of distress that you found quite impressive. He chanced one last look over your shoulder before gently nudging your arm and hurrying toward the bathroom. You allowed yourself a fond laugh before heading in the direction of the lady’s room, making a detour through the nearby door at the last second. The click of your disgustingly uncomfortable shoes was deafening in the silent stairwell, making you pause at the top of the first flight to check no one had followed.

Once you were confident you were in the clear, you took the last flight at a slower pace, contemplating burning the fucking torture devices you called shoes the entire way. You paused one last time at the top of the steps, just to be safe, before slipping through the door at the top. A warm, orangish glow washed over you, melting some of the tension in your neck and shoulders as you stepped into the cupola.

It had been far too long since you’d ventured into the little hideaway, only able to admire the beautiful stained glass windows from afar. Most Coruscant residents had no idea there was even a room atop the opera house, meaning they missed out on one of the most beautiful views. You lazily wandered toward the window, lightly brushing your fingers over the marbled glass, watching the slightly distorted ecumenopolis below. Your original intention had been to find a refuge from the torture of sitting through three more acts but standing there, looking out across the capital world, all you felt was lonely.

The soft whir of the door was lost to your aching heart but there was no mistaking the muted footsteps approaching. Anyone else would’ve felt fear in that moment, yet you only sighed, knowing the taste of solace you found had come to an end. You let your hand linger on the cool glass for another second before dropping it, turning to face the presence lingering off to your left.

For a moment, you were convinced you were hallucinating, that maybe you were sick, when you turned to find a Coruscant Guard member watching you. There was no mistaking the pattern you had sought out in waves of red armor time and time again. He canted his head and it was so painfully familiar, it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted, your manners suddenly tumbling to Coruscant’s surface. Not that he minded.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Fox countered. Just hearing his voice, the unique inflection in his words that set him apart had your shoulders slumping like the marionette strings folding your facade up had been cut. Something between a sob and laugh tumbled past your lips, the sound seemed to break through the barrier Fox built around himself. The second his stance lost some of its rigidity you were moving, throwing your arms around his shoulders. The collision punched a grunt out of Fox but he barely even swayed, catching your weight with ease.

“What are you doing here?” you repeated, the words muffled against his shoulder. It had been three long weeks since you saw him before he went dark for a security detail off-world. Fox smelled of blaster fire, caf, and sweat, a mixture that should’ve had your nose wrinkling, but right then, it was so perfectly him you pressed closer.

“Thought I’d pick up a security shift for a few senators spending the night at the opera,” Fox sighed, pressing the hard edge of his helmet against the side of your head. That had you pulling away, staring into his dark visor. How long had he been back? The question must’ve been written all over your face because Fox laughed, a soft, beautiful sound. “Relax, we landed maybe an hour before it started.”

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” you mumbled, threading your fingers together at the back of his neck.

“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” Fox snorted, pulling you as close as he dared. The bite of plastoid against your body was uncomfortable but you’d take it over his absence any day.

“Drama queen,” you huffed with a fond eye roll. His helmet tipped down and you assumed he was pinning you with a dark glare, something you had never wanted to see more than you did in that moment. You carefully broke the seal, slowly lifting the bright red helmet off, not realizing you were holding your breath. Fox blinked a few times, gently shaking his head, tousling his longer-than-normal curls. But instead of a scowl, you were greeted with a soft smile that melted your heart.

“Hey,” he breathed, gently tracing the curve of your back.

“Stars, I missed you,” you rasped just before surging forward to capture his lips. Fox let out a soft, breathy laugh against your lips before gently cradling the back of your head, and leaning into the kiss. The bitterness of caf lingered on his lips, a taste you shouldn’t have missed seeing that you drank it just as often as Fox, however, it always seemed to taste better this way.

The kiss had started out sweet, a slow and tender brush of lips that made your heart flutter wildly. You intended to pull away until Fox started to knead the back of your neck, molding you against the curve of his chest. Every ounce of fatigue and anxiety you had been holding onto melted away as you coaxed his mouth open. Fox groaned softly, using his hold on your neck to angle your head back with an urgency you weren’t expecting. The shift had your head spinning to the point that you hadn’t realized you were moving until your back met the cool window.

“Missed you too,” Fox mumbled, dragging his lips away from yours to pant against your cheek. “So fucking much.”

“Mm, playing bodyguard for one of my colleagues wasn’t engaging enough,” you teased, carding through his messy hair. Fox nipped at your ear in retaliation, forcing a half-gasp, half-giggle past your lips. He tugged you tighter against his chest, the unforgiving plastoid of his codpiece pressing into your thigh, tempting you with what waited behind it.

“Like any of them could compare to you,” he breathed, nuzzling into your neck with a shallow roll of his hips. Maybe it was because you weren’t used to him being gone for long stretches of time but you were suddenly aching to feel something beyond GAR blacks and rigid plastoid. Fox yelped at the impatient tug on his codpiece, pulling back to dart his eyes between your hand and your face.

“What - what are you doing?” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder. Yet he didn’t try to move your hand, letting you trace the shape at a torturous pace.

“I’m trying to indulge in what I’ve been daydreaming about for weeks,” you huffed, playfully tugging on the clip holding the armor in place. You watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed before his expression shifted, brown eyes somehow growing darker in the low light.

“Right here?” Fox mused, crowding you against the window and pinning your hand in place. Daring you to bow out. “Now what if one of the boys looked up and saw us? How would they feel seeing their favorite senator being ruined by their commander?”

“Fox,” you gasped, closing your fist in his hair, and grinding into the curve of his thigh plate. The idea should’ve scared you, should’ve filled you with a numbing dread at the thought of anyone catching an esteemed senator with a Guard commander. Instead, you clenched around nothing, mouth falling open with your strained pants.

“Oh, you like that, honey,” Fox purred, his gloved hand slipping under the hem of your short skirt. Even through a layer of fabric, his touch left a trail of heat across your skin. The quiet whine that followed the first brush of his fingers over your cunt made him shiver in your grip. “Maker, you sound even sweeter than in my dreams.”

“You - you dream about the s-sounds I make?” you panted, rocking forward in time with the drag of his fingers.

“Oh, I dream about more than that,” he chucked, bumping his nose against yours.

“Care to share?”

“How long do you have?”

“For you?” you whispered, barely brushing your lips against his. “All the time in the galaxy.”

“Is that so?” he mumbled, moving to pepper kisses down the side of your neck. You caught a glimpse of redness high on his cheeks just before a digit sank into you with little resistance. Your cunt clenched around his gloved finger, a strangled moan bursting from your lips as he pumped his finger once. The rough fabric of his gloves never bothered you before but the desperate, clawing need to feel the warmth of his skin had you squirming.

“Take your gloves off,” you all but begged, “please.” You almost wished you hadn’t asked when he slowly, torturously, pulled away. He caught your eye, pinning you in place with a heavy look, never breaking eye contact as he brought his hand toward his face. You had witnessed Fox bring down a mercenary single-handedly after losing his blaster, seen him dissolve a full-fledged riot, and hit what should’ve been an impossible mark without batting an eye. Yet somehow the sight of his tongue curling around the soaked finger of his glove was more electrifying, setting your teeth on edge.

He pinned you in place, closing his lips around his finger; his lashes fluttered, a muffled groan filling the air as he savored your taste. Your lungs suddenly felt too small as you watched the slow drag of his digit over his full bottom lip. Fox was putting on a show, the twinkle in his lust-blown eyes giving him away and you were undoubtedly enjoying every second. A flash of white teeth sinking into the tip of the glove made your breath hitch, your eyes staying glued to the hem of the fabric as Fox tilted his head back, revealing strong, calloused hands.

Fox’s now bare hand came to rest lightly against your chest, following the curve of your body but your focus was zeroed in on the glove dangling from his teeth. He looked far too pleased with himself, a slight smirk lifting the corner of his mouth as he paused, letting you admire the view. The feather-light brush of his fingers over your heated skin jerked you back to reality but your eyes still followed the fabric when he turned his head, letting the glove fall to the floor before turning his attention back to you.

“Better?” he rumbled, brushing through your folds before sinking two fingers into you, his smug grin never fading. Your head bobbed in an almost frantic nod as you tried to bite back a moan. Fox’s smug smile wasn’t helping either.

“Fuck, yes,” you gasped, tightening your grip in his hair. Fox hummed in the back of his throat, lazily pumping his fingers like he had all the time in the world. You were suddenly reminded of your hand placement when he shifted his weight. If your brain didn’t feel like it might leak out of your ears, you would’ve been more impressed with the skillful way you unclipped his codpiece in one swift movement.

“You’re getting too good at that,” Fox groaned, rocking into your hand.

“You only have yourself to blame,” you laughed breathlessly, tracing the shape of his hard length. He surged forward, his finger brushing a devastating spot inside you as his lips slammed into yours, muffling your incoherent cry.

“Will–will you let me,” he stammered between kisses, the sloppy roll of his hips growing rougher, “let me fuck you for all of Coruscant to see?”

“If–fuck–if you don’t–” you warned, trying to sound commanding, but your ability to form words was quickly narrowing to nothing more than curses and Fox’s name. That seemed to be all the permission he needed though as he licked into your mouth again, the hand that had been buried in your cunt coming up to grip your jaw. In a flurry of movement, you were suddenly facing the expanses of Coruscant, Fox’s warmth pressing against your back as he hiked your skirt up, bunching it around your hips.

“Put your hands on the window, honey,” he rumbled, brushing his nose against the shell of your ear. You obeyed without a second thought, bracing both your hands against one of the orange panels; your heart fluttered when one of his large hands filled the space beside yours. “I wonder if I’ll be able to see our handprints every time I pass by.”

The thought that you’d leave behind a reminder, something only you and Fox would know about, had you pushing back into him. He seemed to catch on, unceremoniously tugging his pants down just enough to free his weeping cock, slipping it between your thighs. There was a brief moment where he paused, his tip barely pressing into your folds like he was savoring the buildup before he pushed in. The stretch felt endless, your head falling forward as you panted around soft whimpers until he was fully sheathed.

“Stars,” you chuckled, feeling dizzy with how full you were, “almost forgot how big you are.” Fox’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, punching the air from your lungs. His free hands slowly followed the curve of your waist, catching on the flashy fabric of your outfit, pausing briefly to brush a thumb over your covered nipple. A shiver tore through you when his hand gently curled around your throat, never squeezing, only using his grip as a way to hold you in place.

“Guess I’ll have to remind you,” he growled, pausing long enough for the words to sink in before he moved. The first thrust tested your ability to hold yourself up but Fox barely gave you a moment to steady yourself before he picked up a brutal pace. If you weren’t so high above the bustling crowds, you might’ve been worried about how you cried out, throwing your head back against Fox’s shoulder.

“F-Fox,” you moaned, needing him to hear the desperation pumping through your veins. You mindlessly curled your fingers over the smooth window pane, forcing your eyes open when you met warm skin. Fox’s hand was still braced against the window, your hand half covering his after your frantic scrambling. You were so mesmerized by the sheer size difference that you didn't notice right away when Fox shifted his weight, hitting a spot that made your eyes cross. You blindly grabbed onto the back of his hand, fingers interlacing between his. Fox instinctively closed his hand, pressing your fingertips into the rough skin of his palm. He nuzzled against your cheek, his ragged breathing raising goosebumps along the length of your throat.

“Fuck, you - you feel so good, cyar’ika” he whimpered, pressing a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your cheek. You were both spiraling out of control, climbing higher and higher with each galaxy-shattering thrust. Fox’s usually composed attitude was long gone, leaving him just as desperate and pleasure-drunk as you were. The heat building under your skin had reached a scalding level but you just couldn’t seem to fall over the edge.

“I– I’m so close,” you whispered, turning your head to try and find his lips. Fox mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch before his hand slid over your chest, coming to rest on your stomach. The pressure of his hand made each punch of his cock somehow more explosive, reminding you both just how deep he was; Fox’s strangled moan overlayed with yours, his hips losing their rhythm.

“Never - fuck - never leaving you behind again,” he panted, leaning heavily against your back to drop his hand lower. Every muscle in your lower half clenched when his fingers brushed your clit, ripping an unusually loud moan from deep in Fox’s chest. The movements of his fingers were sloppy but you were so lost in the blinding pleasure that it didn’t matter. It finally, finally, crested, throwing you over the edge with a cry of Fox’s name as you gushed around him.

It only took three more thrusts before Fox went rigid, burying himself to the hilt with a soft, shaky moan.

Your thoughts cleared slowly, the fog of arousal melting away as you drifted back down to Coruscant. The empty cupola felt oddly quiet without the slap of skin on skin, leaving you to focus on Fox’s slightly labored breathing. Your eyes drifted back to where your hands were still braced against the stained glass, a small smile lifting the corner of your mouth when you noticed that your hand was still wrapped around Fox’s larger one. Flashing speeder lights caught your attention, drawing your gaze to the traffic zipping past the opera house.

“Think anyone saw us?” you wondered absently. Fox laughed, loud and unguarded, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder and the sound alone was enough to make your stomach do a funny little flip.

“We may never know,” Fox snickered, kissing the base of your neck. The deafening chirp of Fox’s comm brought you crashing back to reality, but you did your best to not let your disappointment show when he reached up to tap a button on his vambrace. “Fox.”

“Gotta question for you, Commander,” Thorn said in place of a greeting. Fox propped his chin on your shoulder, humming softly when you let your head drop to the side, resting your temple against his.

“Yes, Thorn.” There was a pregnant pause, your brows pulling together when you swore you heard a muffle laugh through the channel.

“You, uh, wouldn’t happen to be in the opera house’s cupola, would you?” Thorn snickered. Your stomach plummeted to your feet while Fox stiffened behind you. There was no denying it since Fox’s cock was still buried inside you. You tilted your head down, searching for a few dots of red in the sea of creatures, easily finding them near the opera house’s entrance.

“No,” Fox replied stiffly, only making the situation worse.

“Oh really?” a slightly different voice huffed. You glanced to the side, arching a brow in question. Fox rolled his eyes but mouthed, Stone, before returning his attention back to the comm.

“Heya, senator!” Thorn shouted. You only knew it was him because just as the greeting came through, you saw one of the dots with more red paint raise an arm, waving it wildly.

“How’d you know?” Fox grumbled, sounding close to pouting in your opinion.

“We can see your shadows, shit for brains,” Thorn wheezed, barely getting his sentence out between fits of laughter.

“Go do your fucking jobs,” Fox snapped, punching the button to end the call a little too hard. You had managed to keep a straight face throughout the call but you were steadily losing the battle against laughter. “I’m glad you find it funny.”

“I’m surprised you don’t,” you giggled, lightly resting your head against his temple. Fox huffed and hid his face against your shoulder, faintly shaking his head.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,” he groaned, mindlessly squeezing your fingers that were still intertwined with his.

“About getting caught,” you wondered, letting a smirk pull at the corner of your mouth, “or how hot it looked from their perspective?” Fox sounded defeated as he brought your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Both.”

Taglist: @techs-feral-wife (thank you for your help too Max ❤️)

#commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #commander fox #coruscant guard #commander fox smut #cc-1010 #star wars #the clone wars #marshal commander fox

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candyfloss5000 · 17 days

Text

forced to live in 2024, born to be a GAR bunk bunny 😔

#sergeant hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #wrecker x reader #tech x reader #Captain rex x reader #arc trooper jesse x reader #arc trooper echo x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #commander fox x reader #commander cody x reader #commander wolffe x reader #Commander bly x reader #kix x reader #the bad batch #Tbb #Captain howzer x reader #Captain Gregor x reader #clone trooper kix x reader #clone troopers x reader

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wanderinginksplot · 7 months

Text

Commander Fox + Mercenary!Reader

As a mercenary, you travel in and out of Coruscant a lot. You find it more than a little strange that Commander Fox himself always seems to be on the Coruscant Guard team investigating your transport when you come back planetside...

Commander Fox x gn!reader (platonic-ish, with a hint toward future feelings)

Thanks to @nowait-whathappened for the prompt!

Word Count: 3.4k words

Warnings: mentions of weapons, mentions of bodily injuries, implied lack of trust

Masterlist

---

“Transport 47816, prepare for boarding.”

The groans that echoed through the transport ship were instant and harsh. None of the familiar faces around you held an expression more pleasant than ‘irritation’, but you were well used to this by now.

“Why?” Kann bit out harshly. You tried not to roll your eyes, but it was a close thing. As the Lament’s near-constant pilot, Kann knew exactly why you were being boarded just outside of Coruscant’s airspace, but that didn’t mean he was going to make things easy.

“Transport 47816, you’re returning from a neutral star system. It’s protocol.”

Kann snarled. “Shove the protocol up your-”

“Shut up and let the troopers on the ship,” Skoh ordered. “I don’t have time for you to argue with the whole damn Guard.”

Despite his previous eagerness for a fight, Kann clenched his jaw and nodded. “Dropping shields now.”

Kann was one of the more reckless members of the Lament, but Nakte Skoh was a force to be reckoned with. When the tall Togruta spoke, every one of the mercenaries on the team listened. Disobeying him was a good way to get killed - sometimes by the enemy and sometimes by Skoh himself.

The troopers who boarded the transport were wearing the familiar Coruscant Guard colors. You even recognized a few of the patterns and greeted them with a slight nod. You wouldn’t have minded being a little more exuberant, but not among your coworkers. It would be unwise to show too much emotion surrounded by mercenaries.

“Everyone stand.” Grumbling. “Leave all weapons here. We will be interviewing each of you separately.” More grumbling, even as everyone started to reluctantly comply.

The trooper issuing instructions was none other than the commander of the Coruscant Guard, Commander Fox. You could recognize him by his visored helmet easily enough, but there was something in his voice. What exactly made his tone was hard to pinpoint, but if pressed, you thought you could pick it out of a crowd. Even if that crowd were made up of other clone troopers.

So you stood with the others, smoothly pulling your blasters and blades out from their usual places. The pile they made on your empty seat was respectable, the wear on the weapons a mark of your ability to use every one. With a last quick count to make sure none of the other mercenaries decided to take something that wasn’t theirs, you followed everyone to the link between your ship and the Guard’s.

“Hope they’ll be less stupid about their weapons checks this time,” Yarrex muttered to you. The Kiffar was impatient at the best of times, but she knew her stuff better than most. “Last time, they misaligned the power pack on my rifle. If I hadn’t checked, it would have taken all of us out.”

You nodded fervently, remember how close a call that had been. Yarrex’s rifle had been actively overheating by the time she returned to the transport ship and she had hissed loud curses the whole time she fixed it. You couldn’t blame her - the smell from the flesh of her fingertips burning had lingered in the ship for days.

There was a Coruscant Guard trooper just inside the larger ship, ushering you to your ultimate destination. “This way, down the hall-”

“-And to the right,” you finished. “I know, I know.”

“Been here a few times?” Yarrax asked over her shoulder.

You shrugged, glad there was no one else behind you. What you were about to say could easily turn into tales of bad luck, and eventually spiral into you not being hired onto as many jobs. “Every single time I come back to Coruscant.”

“That’s not fair,” one of the trooper protested.

You aimed a dry look in his direction. “We both know it is, Chase.”

“I didn’t know they had names,” Kann remarked as he was led to one of the interrogation rooms.

Yarrax hissed disapprovingly at his back. The trooper stammered, “I- I’m not Chase.”

“Save it,” Skoh advised with a nod in your direction. “That one can smell lies.”

Chase glanced at you, clearly nervous even through the protective cover of his helmet. You gave him a broad smile and went to sit down.

Chase and the trooper who had directed you to the interrogation area were watching the room. The unfamiliar one had a medic’s cross on one shoulder and you wondered idly whether the Guard was expecting trouble.

They shouldn’t, honestly. The standard Coruscant Guard procedure was to pull everyone into individual rooms to ask questions about the most recent mission. The Lament had some latitude in the way they conducted business, but everyone made a point of being as vague as possible in their answers. It was an entertaining game you all played when you came back to Coruscant.

Though, apparently, no one played it as often as you.

There were two interrogation rooms being used at the moment. The ship had at least a few more, but Lament missions were made up of ten mercenaries by rule - no more, no less. With Kann and another mercenary in the interrogation rooms, there apparently weren’t enough of you to warrant using more rooms.

Mercenaries weren’t the most lively and talkative bunch, especially not after a long mission. A few of them shut their eyes to catch a few moments of sleep. The lone Nautolan in the Lament, a female named Veng, worked on repairing a tear she had gotten in the shoulder of her shirt. The needle flashing in and out of the ripped halves was mesmerizing, but your attention was caught by Skoh.

Your leader was watching the room, gaze intent as he studied the mercenaries and the troopers watching you. There was no real tension in him, not even the kind disguised by the specific relaxation he took on when a negotiation was leading toward violence. But he was awake and alert, so you decided that you should be, too.

Not that there was any reason to, of course. Skoh and Yarrix were the next to disappear into interview rooms as the first two went back to the transport ship. You weren’t among the next two to be called, or the ones after that. When it was only you and Veng left on the Guard ship, the door opened for Khyr to step out. Commander Fox stood in the doorway, sternly announcing that you were next.

Veng didn’t glance up to see the amused look you gave her, but that was fine. It hadn’t really been for her, anyway. The commander stepped aside for you to enter the interrogation room, then closed the door before following you to the table.

“Commander Fox,” you greeted with a nod. “How are you? How’s the wife?”

The commander removed his helmet, all the better for you to see the confusion and exasperation mingling on his handsome face. “The wife.”

“Or husband,” you amended. “Or partner. Non-specific.”

“I don’t have any of those,” he told you. “Did you get hit on the head during this massacre?”

You rolled your eyes at him, the way you always did when he disparaged your line of work. “Not a massacre. Not this time, at least. We do things other than kill people, you know.”

“Yeah? What was the objective on this mission?”

It just so happened that the mission you were returning from had been far more violent than expected, so you stepped neatly around the question. “Anyway, the point is that I see you so often, I feel like I should get to know something about your life. With anyone else, I would know about their partner or children or pets or hobbies. I see you more often than my parents.”

“That so?” Fox asked, tilting his head to deliver his skeptical expression to best effect.

“Not in the slightest,” you admitted easily. “But it has come to my attention that not every Lament mission gets investigated by the Guard when they return to Coruscant.”

Fox stiffened slightly. “We do our best to stop every transport, but our team is spread thin…”

“I’m not doubting your work, Commander,” you assured, “just your selection methods. Why is it that my team is always the one to be stopped?”

“Coincidence.”

Now, it was your turn to be skeptical. “You’ll have to do better than that, Fox.”

His eyes widened briefly and you wondered if you had offended him by dropping his title, but he recovered in the next instant. “Are you suggesting that we should be suspicious of you?”

“No, but you are,” you countered. “Otherwise, why would you always be focused on my missions?”

“I told you: we aren’t.”

Despite the way Fox’s teeth were gritted, you pushed on. You had a trump card, and you intended to play it: “Then why are you here? You, specifically? The Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard, investigating a transport full of mercenaries? You have better things to be doing than this. It’s suspicious.”

“I’ve told you, it’s a coincidence.” Fox sounded overly stubborn, even for him.

You lifted your hands innocently in front of yourself and leaned backward in your chair. “Fine, fine. Total coincidence. Your complete lack of supporting evidence or further arguments has convinced me. Proceed with your interrogation, Commander.”

He scowled intensely at you, but sat in the chair across from yours and started with the typical round of questions. Name, address, interplanetary work-travel permit number, employer, job title.

When you had answered them all successfully, Fox set his datapad down on the table between you. “Now, tell me about the mission you completed just prior to coming back to Coruscant.”

“We were on Raydonia,” you answered easily. “We were hired to protect a village.”

Fox gestured for you to continue when you stopped. “And what were you protecting them from?”

“They were hit by two unknowns a few weeks ago.” The explanation was a little shaky, but it was the only one you had been given. It was still more than you usually got for a job and you were fine with that, but Fox seemed determined to think you were untrustworthy. “They took some of the most powerful warriors in the village. The village elders were worried some of the surrounding people might take the chance to attack them. They were right.”

“Were there any casualties?” Fox asked, carefully not looking at you.

You smiled despite yourself. “No Republic citizens were harmed.”

It was a vague and a polite way of reminding him that he had no jurisdiction over things that happened outside of Republic-controlled planets. Technically speaking, Fox had no jurisdiction over things that happened outside of Coruscant, but you wouldn’t bet on that stopping him.

“And among your team?” he asked. “No injuries or deaths?”

“Nothing major,” you told him with a shrug. “You can count. I’m sure you noticed all ten of us are here and accounted for.”

“What about minor injuries?” he pressed.

You knew better than to shift in your chair, or look away from the easy eye contact you had maintained up to that point. Fox was an expert, and a sharp one at that. The smallest possible tell and he would know everything there was to know. That was what made him dangerous.

“None to speak of.”

Even your flawless delivery left him looking distinctly skeptical. “Then why are you limping?”

Despite the surge of frustrated exasperation that rose in you, your lips curved into a smile. “You’re too observant for your own good, Commander.”

“Which isn’t an answer.”

That made you chuckle aloud. “No, it wasn’t. But since you’re so insistent on an explanation, I sustained a minor injury on the mission. I treated it promptly and it is well on its way to healing.”

“How were you injured?”

Dimly, you wondered if Fox realized that he had leaned forward slightly under the weight of his own intensity. But only dimly, because most of your attention was drawn to the way he was even more handsome from a shorter distance away.

“Why?”

Fox blinked, and it seemed to break the spell he had put himself under. An instant later, he was scowling again - a fairly regular expression for him during these stops. “Because I’m the Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard and I asked you a direct question.”

“I don’t answer to you,” you reminded him, privately savoring the look of profound irritation blossoming on his face. “Not about missions that take place in independent systems. Even if they result in injuries.”

“Maybe I have cause to believe that you sustained that injury in Republic territory,” Fox proposed. “Maybe I need proof you aren’t lying to me.”

For a mercenary, you were even-tempered. Remarkably so, in fact. It helped you get along with your more volatile coworkers. But you did have a temper, and when it sparked, you were far from subtle.

The slam of the chair’s front legs reconnecting with the floor was loud. Fox didn’t jump - he had too much control over himself for that - but his eyes darted to yours in a way that made his surprise evident. Your hands connecting with the top of the table between you was loud, too, the sound specifically and purposefully sharp.

You leaned in toward Fox and the expression on your face was unpleasant enough that he looked concerned. “I like you, Fox. I think you’re a good man doing your best in the galaxy’s worst job. That’s why I’m gonna give you this one warning: I do not appreciate being called a liar.”

“I didn’t-”

Your gaze was hard as you stared him in the eyes. Fox looked startled as well as concerned by that point. He had never seen you truly pissed before.

“Yes, you did,” you said firmly. “I will be the first to admit that I exaggerate. I dramatize. I embellish for comedic effect. But I do not lie. I have never lied to you or any of your men, despite what is verging on harassment. I do not intend to lie in the future, and I don’t want to file a harassment charge, but all of that depends on you.”

It was honestly a shock when Fox didn’t take advantage of your pause to speak. It told you that he understood how deadly serious you were. With his attention sharp on you, you told him, “I’m a reasonable person. I am willing to overlook this misstep… once. And that offer is entirely dependent on what you say next.”

“I’m sorry,” Fox said, honesty ringing in the simple words. You waited for more and he obliged: “You’re right, you have never lied to me - to any of us. Not about anything big. It was unfair of me to accuse you of it.”

“And why did you?” you asked.

The question felt a little like twisting a blade in an injury, but you needed to know. You needed to know that it wasn’t going to happen again, and if it did, you needed to know enough to anticipate it. Because you had grown to respect Commander Fox, damn it, and it had hit surprisingly hard to have him misjudge your morals so dramatically.

“I… don’t like the idea of you being injured,” Fox admitted, sounding mystified. You understood, since that explanation left you feeling a little mystified yourself. “I would like to know about your injury if you’ll agree to tell me.”

You watched the commander for another long moment, doing your best to gauge his sincerity. It wasn’t easy - especially since it required you to look past those lovely eyes and flawless bone structure - but you managed. It was one of your most reliable skills, after all. Fox seemed to be telling you the truth.

When you leaned your chair backward again, the tension in the room shattered. You sent him a cryptic half-smile. “You know us mercenaries,” you drawled. “We don’t give away anything for free. You ask your question and I’ll ask mine. A truthful answer for a truthful answer.”

Fox considered it for only a moment before he nodded. “How did you get injured?”

“One of the attacking villagers had better aim than I expected,” you said, smiling wryly. “After I pulled his vibroblade from my calf, I changed my previous opinion.”

“Do you have a bacta patch on it?” Fox asked. “If not, I can get you a fresh one before you go back to your transport.”

“I already have one, thanks,” you assured him. “And I’m feeling generous, so I’m going to point out the fact that I let you ask two questions. Now it’s my turn.”

Luckily for Fox, you really were in a good mood again. You only let him dangle in his discomfort for a few moments before you asked your question. “Do you always stop my transport on purpose?”

“Yes.”

For all that you had suspected that answer, hearing it directly was shocking.

Instead of responding immediately, you paused for a moment to take a breath. If Fox was targeting you specifically, you had to believe there was a reason. And since you had already come this far, you may as well find out what that reason was. “Why?”

Fox looked reluctant and faintly uncomfortable. It was the look you imagined most of the troopers got when they were asked to do an unpleasant chore. But, to Fox’s credit, he gave the answer he had promised.

“You’re not the typical mercenary.” You frowned, already opening your mouth, but he quickly went on. “Not that you don’t have your skills, but I’ve been keeping a close eye on the missions you’re a part of. That is, the Coruscant Guard has. There is a concern among the men that the Lament would leave you behind on a mission or allow an injury to go untreated.”

Well, it was an explanation, but you felt like it left you with more questions than answers. “Nice to know you guys worry about me, but I still don’t understand why you care.”

Fox shrugged, but the casual gesture was belied by the way his eyes were locked with yours. “You look at us like we’re human.”

You frowned again.

“And I… admire you,” Fox added quietly. “You have a code and you follow it. Unusual, especially for a mercenary.”

“Again with the insults about my work.” Despite your heavy sigh, your tone was playful, and you knew he would take it as the tease that it was. “I look forward to seeing you too, Fox. That’s why I haven’t complained about being stopped every time we come back to Coruscant.”

He gave you a disbelieving look and you laughed. “Okay, fine. That’s why I don’t complain too much.”

Fox didn’t immediately reply. Normally, the two of you traded barbs and witty remarks back and forth so quickly that it would make an onlooker’s head spin. But you didn’t feel the need to say anything further and, apparently, neither did he. The room filled with a surprisingly comfortable silence, warm and cozy in a way that durasteel interrogation rooms rarely managed.

“So you’ve decided against filing harassment charges?” Fox asked at length.

“I have no intention of it,” you told him. “We made a deal. Guess that’s more evidence of my rare and admirable moral code…”

Fox rolled his eyes and you laughed. Before he could say something sarcastic, you added, “Besides, I think I would miss seeing you guys if you stopped checking up when I return from missions.”

“You would miss us?” You would have accused Fox of fishing for a compliment if he hadn’t sounded so charmingly stunned.

“Of course,” you told him, narrowly stopping yourself from winking at him. He really was a very attractive man. “But I need to get back to the transport now. They wouldn’t leave without me, but one of the others might get a little grabby with the weapons I left behind. Especially since I have a sharp new vibroblade.”

Fox stood when you did, leading the way to the door with a suspicious look on his face. “This isn’t the vibroblade that…” He finished the question only with a vague gesture toward your injured leg.

“If someone stabs me with a knife, I get to keep it,” you told him seriously. “I believe that is common courtesy.”

“No new weapons on this next mission, then,” Fox said as he stood aside to let you pass. “No risks, no injuries, no killing.”

You shook your head in exasperation, already starting down the hall back to the Lament’s transport. “I’m starting to think you don’t understand what being a mercenary is, Commander.”

---

Author's Note - Happy Fox day! I knew I wanted to write something for 10/10, and big thanks to @nowait-whathappened for giving me this prompt! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!

You can find other works on my masterlist or sign up for my taglist here. As always, I'm happy to remove you from the taglist if it's no longer in your interests.

Taglist: @rexs-wife @sugarpuffsstuff @stargazingthenightaway @just-some-girl-92 @kimageddon @ladysongmaster @carodealmeida @adriiibell @boomtowngirl @bitchylittleredhead @blck-omen @lackofhonor @captxin-rex @literallydontlook @salaminus @lucyhelena @808tsuika @ladykatakuri @bikerlorian @torchbearerkyle @frietiemeloen @tsedeshgishnii @buddee @justanothersadperson93 @leotatombs @mavendeb @rain-on-kamino @itsagrimm @captain-splock-you @dancingwiththeplanets @hummellchen @theclonesdeservebetter @cyarinka @ladyemxo @maulslittlemeowmeow @rosmariner @staycalmandhugaclone @coruscanticoffee @crookedwiings @eyecandyeoz @fordo-kixed-rex @musigrusi @lucyysthings @dinsverdika @bombshe77 @cawyden

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #reader insert #commander fox #coruscant guard #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #fox x reader #fox x you #gn!reader #no use of y/n #fox day #cc 1010 #fic prompt #ink's fics

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coffeeandbatboys · 2 months

Text

Hold me close Mesh'la (Commander Fox x Fem!Reader)

A/N I just really wanted to write a little something about making out but not something dirty. So here y'all are.

Warnings: an argument, make up and make out, Fox being insanely clingy. Mention of Fives' death and pretty angsty. Fox tries turning grief into love as a coping mechanism.

"Mesh'la" Fox groaned, spinning your chair around and caging you in with his hands on both armrests.

Anger welled inside your chest. "Fox, for the last time, I'm kriffing busy can't you see?! I will come to bed when I'm done."

"You don't have any idea what I'm going through right now and I need help."

In any other mindset, you would have immediately switched gears and asked what was wrong, but you had a report to write and it was your top priority at the moment. Shoving him away, you grabbed your datapad and without saying a word, slammed the apartment door behind you. Deciding that the best place to work would be the caf shop down the street, you marched in that direction, angry thoughts buzzing in your head.

It was only after you'd written the last line of your report that you realized what he'd actually said.

"You don't have any idea what I'm going through right now and I need help.

Kriff. You hadn't even given him a chance to explain why he was so distraught when you'd gotten home. Were you really that focused on work that you'd neglected the love of your life's mental wellbeing?

You grabbed an extra cup of caf and rushed home as fast as you could, heart pounding in anticipation as the lift ascended into the tower.

"Fox, love?"

You found him in bed facing the wall. Little shivers told you he was crying, but knowing that you were standing right there, he tried to hide it.

You lowered your voice to a gentle whisper as you climbed in bed with him. "Kriff, Fox I'm so sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

It was silent for a moment and the shivers stopped, but then his whole body shuddered as he let out a breath.

"I killed him. I didn't mean to. I swear it was set to stun but..."

Well that was certainly not the answer you were expecting.

"Killed who?" You asked hesitantly, not sure if you wanted to know.

"Fives."

Your heart sank. You'd heard about the ARC trooper that Rex had taken into the 501st. He seemed like a nice guy from what you'd been told.

Forgoing judgment, you wrapped your arms around Fox.

"Do you want to talk?"

Shook his head before turning to face you. "Can...I try something?"

You tilted your head to survey his face in the dim light of the bedroom. It looked almost pleading, and you nodded.

He got up on his hands and knees over you, caging you in once again, before lowering himself to kiss you. His chest pressed against yours, his lips perfectly slotted on your mouth.

Maker, your racing heart could be a side effect of the late night caf coursing through your veins. Or it could be something entirely different.

You reached up and threaded your fingers into his soft hair, pulling ever so slightly at the graying strands. A groan resounded through his chest and echoed on your lips. He pulled away to take a breath and whisper 'I love you' before descending to catch your lips again. You tasted the salty tears that had fallen on his own mouth as they mixed with the sweet caf you'd had before.

In a fluid motion he grabbed your waist and rolled over so that you were perched against his chest, never once breaking the kiss. You had to admit, he was a pretty damn good loverboy.

Finally you pulled away to cradle his face in your hands.

"M' sorry I got angry with you. I was really out of place. And I'm sorry you're going through this. You shouldn't have to do it alone."

He closed his eyes to keep more tears from falling.

"Just hold me close Mesh'la. I'll be okay."

#star wars #marshall commander fox #commander fox x reader #Fox x reader #commander fox #Star wars x reader #clones x reader #The clone wars #Fives #arc trooper fives #Marshall commander fox x reader #Fox x fem!reader #Commander fox x fem!reader

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enigmaticexplorer · 10 months

Text

I trust him, and he trusts me

Summary: When Wolffe accidentally interrupts a private moment between you and Fox, dynamics change. And even though you’re mistrustful of most men and reserved with the intimacies of your life, you find yourself opening up to Wolffe. Much to Fox’s pleasure.

Pairings: Established Fox x female!reader. Fox x female!reader x Wolffe.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Minors DNI.

Word count: 7.6K

Read on AO3.

A/N: Please know that hygiene is of the upmost importance to me. I may not explicitly state in my works that people wash their hands before any type of sexual contact, but they do. Everyone always washes their hands.

A wet tongue flattened itself against your clit and you moaned. A spark of heat coiled tighter inside of you, the beginnings of what you hoped for so desperately.

The tongue circled your clit. Slow, tortuous circles that had your hips posturing, your cunt fluttering, your hands trembling.

At your sharp tug on his curls, Fox groaned. The vibration from the guttural noise stroked your cunt. Like a shock of lightning, pleasure rocked through your body and you gasped, arching off the bed. Heavy pants hissed between your teeth, your fingers clinging to Fox’s hair for steadiness.

Strong hands held you down, deft fingers massaging into your hips. The heat of his mouth enveloped your clit and Fox sucked. Your legs squeezed the breadth of his shoulders at the same moment your cunt clenched.

“Oh gods,” you moaned. Deep inside of you, pressure mounted. Sharpened. “Fox—”

The door to your bedroom swung open.

Wrenched from the pleasure addling your thoughts, you jerked up. Your breaths faltered and you stared wide-eyed at the intruder.

For in the doorway of your bedroom stood Commander Wolffe.

Nude body fully displayed, you wrapped a protective arm around your chest, trying to close your legs.

Except Fox still held your hips, his shoulders holding your thighs wide open, refusing to let you go. His upper lip curled and his narrowed eyes took in your sweaty body, took in what you assumed to be both surprise and unease on your face. He shifted himself, just enough to cover your body.

Face drawn in a scowl, Wolffe assessed the situation, his gaze lingering on yours for a long moment. The reality of the situation seemed to catch up to him and a muscle flexed in his jaw. Crossing his arms over his chest, he faced the door.

“Apologies,” he grumbled.

“That’s okay,” you said.

It really wasn’t. You had been so close. A month of letting Fox pursue his whole “oral sex is pleasurable, give me a chance to prove it” thing, trusting him with a vulnerability you usually ignored, led to this moment, and his stupid brother had to interrupt.

Reaching for the sheet, you pulled it atop your naked body, blinking at Fox. Your partner was still scowling, his umbrage palpable in the small bedroom.

“We need to speak,” Wolffe said. Tone sharp, slightly annoyed, you knew he wasn’t speaking to you.

Your interactions with the commander were minimal, a mere crossing of paths whenever you visited Fox at his office. And while Wolffe had always been cordial—not friendly, but certainly respectful—you were not comfortable with him seeing you in such a compromising position.

Hell, you weren’t comfortable with any person seeing you naked, much less with a man’s head between your legs.

Only Fox held your trust. And he held it with careful hands, protective of the trust you both had developed the past year. Protective of the trust you gave to no one. No one, except him.

The same muscle in Wolffe’s jaw twitched in Fox’s and the man gently closed your legs, his fingers massaging your calf. An uncharacteristic glare darkened his features and he patted your calf, pushing himself to his feet.

“Were you close?” he asked softly.

It took an embarrassingly long amount of time for you to realize he was talking to you. And when it registered, heat warmed your cheeks. His tone was casual, intrigued, even though his brother was standing in the room and could hear.

Shifting uncomfortably under the sheet, you nodded. Fox ran a hand through his hair, the curls at his temples silvered, and then released a bitter chuckle. He continued to stare at you, his jaw working. Shoulders stiffening, he offered you a tight smile.

“I’ll be right back. We can continue—”

“It’s okay.” At his flicker of disappointment, you grimaced, fiddling with the sheet. “I don’t think…”

A meaningful look passed between you both and Fox nodded in understanding. Humiliation sunk into your body. Cold and unwelcome, you dropped your gaze to your hands, swallowing against the tears itching the backs of your eyes.

You would not cry. You would not.

A light tap encouraged you to look up. Fox squeezed your calf again, his expression gentle yet firm. He didn’t need to vocalize his thoughts for you to know what he was thinking.

Everything is okay. We’re okay.

The phrase he told you whenever something like this happened. Whenever your body reacted in an unwanted way.

His smile softened and he squeezed your thigh before turning on his heel and shoving Wolffe in the back. The door swung shut but you didn’t miss the baleful glare Fox shot his brother.

The door clipped shut and Wolffe faced his vod. He was expecting Fox’s annoyance. He was not expecting his fury. And he sure as fuck hadn’t expected his vod to slam his hands against his chest and shove him backwards.

Wolffe stumbled and Fox swung. Blocking his vod’s fist, he sidestepped another punch. He shoved Fox away and backtracked a meter, creating distance.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Fox snarled.

Wolffe rolled his eyes. Today had been long enough without dealing with a dumbass vod in love. “How the fuck was I supposed to know you were fucking?”

“We were in her fucking bedroom.” Fox glanced back at the closed door and winced. Taking a step closer, he lowered his voice. “We’ve been working on that for a month and you just had to fucking interrupt.”

Wolffe frowned. “You’ve been working on what for a month?”

“She can’t orgasm without a vibrator.” Running a hand through his hair, Fox sighed. “We’ve been working on it.”

“You’re telling me that you can’t get your woman to orgasm?” Wolffe said slowly, plainly. “I knew you weren’t as good as me, but what the actual fuck, Fox’ika?”

“Fuck off,” Fox hissed. “She’s uncomfortable with oral and we’re taking this slowly. It took me a fucking year to get her to trust me. I’m not fucking this up.”

A hint of guilt stabbed at his conscious and Wolffe grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze travelled to the closed door. No wonder you looked petrified the moment he walked in. Awkward situation aside, if you were trying to overcome discomfort with Fox, his arrival probably set the two of you back a bit.

“She can orgasm, right?” He wasn’t sure why the question forced its way out, but it felt important enough to ask.

“ ‘Course she can. With a vibrator.” Fox shrugged. “She gets too in her head—she thinks she’s taking too long or it’s not enjoyable for me and then she can’t.” He kicked at the floor. “I thought it would be useful to find someone who could help. Touch her and kiss her—”

“—so she gets distracted.”

Nodding, Fox heaved a heavy sigh. “But she doesn’t trust anyone. She doesn’t want a random man being with her like that.”

“Then choose someone she knows,” Wolffe said. The solution was fucking simple, even for a di’kut like Fox. “Cody. Or Rex.”

“Thought about it.” Fox shot him an annoyed look, probably reading his former thought. “I introduced her to them but she was too shy. She’s already reserved, and when she knows that’s why I’m introducing her to those vode, she gets even more mistrustful.”

“That’s… tough.”

Wolffe glanced at the chrono on his wrist. He gave his vod thirty more seconds to mope and then he straightened. “All right. There was a jail break.”

79s was not your favorite place on Coruscant. There were few places that appealed to you, and a club overcrowded with drunk men, too loud music, and strobe lights that hurt your eyes did not meet criteria. However, the place was special to Fox. A safe place for him to be with his brothers outside of work, share a drink with them, and make sure they were doing okay.

While you held no love for 79s, you cared enough for Fox to appreciate the club for the sanctuary it provided.

Lifting your hand to his lips, Fox brushed a soft kiss to your knuckles and returned your intertwined hands to his side. A simple gesture he did often whenever he was engrossed in conversation, as he was now, listening to a group of younger men. New transfers to the Coruscant Guard. Men Fox prioritized to get to know tonight.

Men who blinked wide eyes—awed by his presence—while he talked.

Much of what Fox did in the midst of the war earned him a certain reputation amongst the men outside the Guard. A reputation based on disagreement with certain orders he oversaw and acted upon. And while the Guard was steadfast in their loyalty to Fox, there were many in the ranks who held little care for him, much less respected him.

He wore a façade—one that spoke of control and indifference—to hide the guilt you knew gnawed at him. The guilt that woke him in the middle of the night and left him sitting on the edge of your bed with his head in his hands and his breaths erratic.

Never reacting to the disgruntled comments and bitter remarks muttered about him, Fox hid his emotions well. Over the months, though, you saw through the cracks. You saw the guilt and shame; you saw the hurt he refused to vocalize.

To see him speaking with these new transfers, to see the respect in their faces and their eagerness to prove themselves to him, soothed the defensiveness you felt on his behalf.

Fox squeezed your hand. A silent apology for your lack of inclusion in the conversation. You told him, on multiple occasions, you didn’t mind listening to his conversations with his brothers. That was the purpose of your visits to 79s, and you liked seeing him with his men. Liked how the stiffness eased from his shoulders, how his smile softened, how the lines marring his forehead and eyes smoothed.

But he always felt guilty whenever the conversation lasted longer than a few minutes.

“All right, boys,” Fox said. He clapped a hand to the shoulder of the closest man. “Go grab another drink. And remember: don’t contribute or take away from the population tonight.”

Rolling your eyes while smiling at the silly advice he always used with new recruits, you waved to the men as they wandered away.

“I like them,” you said.

Fox grabbed your waist and pulled you into his chest. An amused grin tugged on his lips. “You always like them.”

“You liked them, too.” Resting your hands on his chest, you quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t try and pretend otherwise.”

“I did like them.” His head lowered, his eyes hooded as his lips brushed against yours. “But I want to spend tonight with you.”

A comfortable warmth enveloped your body and you closed your eyes, leaning into him, leaning into the soft, pliant heat of his mouth. Your tongue teased the seam of his lips. His brushed yours, friendly and flirtatious. Before he could deepen the kiss and you both lost yourselves in the heady embrace of the other, you pulled away. Voyeurism and exhibition may have been Fox’s proclivities, but you weren’t comfortable with either. No matter the subtleties of his current intent.

With a quiet chuckle, Fox trailed soft kisses along your jaw, to your ear, his hands pulling you even closer. Close enough his hardening cock nestled firmly against your stomach. Your fingers curled into his shirt and you tilted your head to the side, sighing quietly at the flick of his tongue to the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” he said quietly.

“Mm-hmm.” You leaned back so you could meet his gaze. “Those men adore you.” Lifting a hand to his face, you smoothed his cheekbone, brushing a few stray curls from his forehead. “I wish you could see yourself the way those men do. The way I do.”

Fox exhaled a strained breath and dropped his forehead to yours. The hands on your waist expanded across your back until he was holding you. Embracing you.

It was always shocking when Fox dropped the hardened exterior he wore around his subordinates and superiors. The exterior that kept you away from his advances for so many months. Only when he had had a moment like this—a moment of silent vulnerability when the hurt he hid so well showed itself and he embraced you tightly, his hands trembling—did you finally start to trust him.

“Thank you, mesh’la,” he whispered hoarsely.

With a brush of his lips to your cheek, Fox scanned the crowd and grimaced.

“Need to take a piss,” he said. The corner of his lip twitched and he winked. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Go.” Unwinding yourself from his grip, you nodded toward the closest bar. “Find me over there.”

With a squeeze to your shoulder, Fox disappeared into the crowd. You made your way to the bar, prepared to sit and rest your feet. Instead, a human male—non-clone—cut off your path. A bottle in his hand and a friendly expression on his face, he dipped his chin.

“Nice dress,” he said.

The comment was harmless, and his relaxed demeanor convinced you he wasn’t a bother, so you smiled your thanks.

He took a step closer. “Are you here alone?”

Before you could refute his advances, two large hands landed atop your shoulders. Instinctively, you stiffened, your jaw clenching. Though the hands were gentle, their pressure light, you didn’t know who they belonged to—

“She’s spoken for.”

The depth of the voice, similar to Fox’s yet underlined by a perpetual gruffness, alerted you to the hands’ owner. Breathing a small sigh of relief, you relaxed. And on your exhale, you realized how close Wolffe stood. Little space separated his chest from your back, and if you so chose, you could easily lean into him. Little effort and little craning. He was standing far too close.

The man in front of you took one look at Wolffe and turned on his heel.

“That was rude.” You faced the commander and his hands fell from your shoulders, crossing his chest. His expression was apathetic and yet you could have sworn there was a hint of accusation. Strong enough of a hint that you stiffened, feeling defensive. “I was going to tell him about Fox.” Lips pursing, you eyed him. “I would never cheat on him, if that’s your concern.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Wolffe studied your face for a moment too long. The assessment in his gaze was too reminiscent of the night he saw you with Fox and you internally winced. “I wanted to apologize, again, for barging in.”

Heat warmed your cheeks and you looked away. “I already said it was okay.”

In your periphery, Wolffe scoffed. “It was okay enough you won’t look me in the eye?”

You gave him a disapproving look. “Did you need something, Commander?”

“It’s Wolffe.” The corner of his lip twitched. “Use it.”

With that, Wolffe pushed his way through the crowd, and a second later, Fox reappeared.

“Your brother is an asshole,” you grumbled.

A knowing grin lit Fox’s face as he leaned against the bar’s counter. “I don’t need you to tell me which brother you’re speaking of.”

“I don’t think he likes me.” A small smile curved your mouth and you stepped closer, intertwining your fingers.

“Impossible,” Fox said quietly. And though his expression was teasing, a serious note underscored his tone. His knuckles knocked beneath your jaw and titled your head back. “He’s jealous of me.”

You laughed and his grin widened.

“Seriously, my mesh’la.” Fox lowered his face, his lips a mere hairsbreadth away. He smiled against your mouth. “He knows I’m one lucky bastard.”

To the outsider, his words could be taken as a mere throwaway. But you knew Fox. You knew the subtle shifts in his expressions and tone. You knew when he was teasing and when he was being serious. Vulnerable.

His simple comment reminded you why you were with him. Why you trusted him so much. Even though you were difficult to know, guarded and aloof, he never gave up on you.

A knock on your door told you something was wrong. A peek through the peephole and the sight of an armored Commander Wolffe confirmed your suspicion.

Unnerved, you cracked open your door. “I’m surprised you know how to knock.”

Wolffe stared at you for a long second. He blinked once. The lines around his mouth tightened. And then he released a chuff of a chuckle. A tiny, amused smile worked its way across his lips and he looked down the hall, wiping his hand across his mouth.

When his gaze returned to yours, his expression was serious. “Fox won’t make it tonight.”

Your thoughts stalled on something painful and scary. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Wolffe leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, eyes narrowed as he peered into your apartment. His nose wrinkled and you could have sworn the quirk of his eyebrow meant he liked the scent of your dinner. “There was a terrorist threat on some senators. He has to clean up the mess.”

“Oh.” So long as he was alive and safe, and his men were alive and safe, and no one else was dead, then you could relax. “Thank—”

“Are you baking bread?”

The utter shock in his question caught you off guard and you frowned. “I am.”

“Hmm.” His gaze slid back to yours.

Something about his question and then his blasé response rubbed you the wrong way. You weren’t a connoisseur of fine food. But you weren’t unskilled either. “Is there a problem?”

“It smells good.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Wolffe shrugged and your eyes narrowed. “Fox never complains about my cooking.”

“That’s not the compliment you think it is.” Straightening and with a glance at his chrono, Wolffe gave you a bored look. “If my vod asks, tell him I was overly apologetic on his behalf.”

Snorting, you started to close your door but you hesitated. Dinner was served for two, and if Fox couldn’t make it tonight, you could gift Wolffe a serving to take back to his office. On behalf of Fox’s perpetual concern for his brothers, but especially concern for the apathetic commander walking away.

“Wolffe?” The commander halted, glancing over his shoulder. You hesitated for only three seconds. “Would you like some dinner? I have enough for two people. Well, one normal person and then a second person who eats a lot.”

Surprise furrowed Wolffe’s brows and he hesitated, scanning your face. You almost rolled your eyes at his evidential skepticism. In a slow, controlled movement, he turned back around and took a barely perceptible step in your direction. More seconds passed as he hesitated again. His head cocked to the side as he studied your face.

If he was going to be uptight about the food he ate, then you wouldn’t have bothered—

“All right.”

The commander strolled into your apartment and made his way to the kitchen, setting his helmet on one of your chairs and then washing his hands in your sink. Somewhat startled by his abrupt response yet also satisfied by your intent, you were retrieving a container large enough for both the curry and a few rolls when you caught sight of Wolffe dishing two bowls. You stilled, frowning.

Oblivious to your confusion, Wolffe set the bowls on the table and returned, placing a few rolls on a plate. As he took a seat, he shot you a hard look.

“What?”

You hid the container behind your back. “Nothing.”

There was a loss in translation, apparently. Wolffe thought you were inviting him to eat with you, and since he was already seated at your table, and he had been kind enough to prepare your dishes, you felt too awkward to ask him to leave.

Taking a seat, you glanced at him. Wolffe was watching you, his brows furrowed and that unsettling calculative look on his face. Beneath his somewhat intimidating gaze, you focused on your bowl, opting for a bite of the curry.

Silence filled the kitchen. Loud and probing. The scrapes of your forks and the occasional sound of sauce stirring elapsed.

Dinner with Fox was easy and convivial. A time for him to unwind after a long day and for you to enjoy his company outside of the confines of work and the pressure of trying to gain his brothers’ approval. With Wolffe, dinner was tense and uncomfortable. Your thoughts kept returning to the night he interrupted; the fact that he had seen you left you feeling uneasy and unsettled.

You wished Fox were here—his steadying hand on your shoulder, the security of his presence.

The silence grew louder, more awkward.

After a moment, you snuck a peek. Wolffe was chewing slowly, thoughtfully. He swallowed and, in a move you would have missed if you weren’t looking at him, he nodded his approval. You stifled your small smile with a piece of the fluffy roll.

Minutes spent in silent contemplation of the food were soon eclipsed by a narrow-eyed Wolffe.

“My vod likes you,” he said.

You blinked. “I know.”

Wolffe’s gaze caressed your face in a way that left you feeling peeled apart and easily readable. An itch pricked the back of your neck and you shifted uncomfortably. He cocked his head to the side. “You’re not going to hurt him.”

It wasn’t a question, but you weren’t entirely certain if it was a threat or a simple statement.

“Fox has been through a lot,” Wolffe continued, and you realized it was a threat. “I don’t want to see him fucked over.”

At his audacity, a course of anger stiffened your spine.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Wolffe.” You held his gaze, refusing to balk from the wariness. “What I feel for Fox is none of your business, and you have no right to accuse me of wanting to hurt him.”

“I didn’t accuse—”

“I trust him, and he trusts me. That is all you need to know.”

Wolffe grimaced and he sat back in his chair, rubbing the nape of his neck. He stared at you, hesitation tensing along his body. In a soft voice, he asked, “Do you trust me?”

Bewildered by the question, you didn’t answer. The tension in his shoulders stiffened and he clenched his jaw.

“I don’t know you,” you answered truthfully.

His mouth opened but he paused. His gaze dropped to his plate and he was silent for almost a minute. Eyes returning to yours, he cleared his throat. “What if I wanted you to?”

To trust you? To know you? Or both?

“I don’t trust easily,” you murmured.

“I know.”

Wolffe held your gaze, unwavering and assessing, and then he pushed himself to his feet. Taking advantage of your stunned state at his sudden movement, he added your bowl to the piles of dishes he was carrying and wandered to the kitchen sink. The splash of water and the subsequent scrubbing noises revived you from your momentary lapse. But when you tried to take over the dish washing, Wolffe gave you a bland look and shouldered you away. At your huff of indignation, the corners of his lips lifted.

Dishes washed, Wolffe grabbed his helmet and made his way to the door. One foot in the hallway, one still in your apartment, he looked you over.

“Think about it,” he said.

For the first three months in which you met Fox, the commander was determined in his intent to know you. He went out of his way in your shared office building to greet you each morning and evening. A rap of his knuckles on your door when you were engrossed in work; a quick conversation if you weren’t too busy. The man was persistent and, overtime, he wore down your defenses.

A lunch he ordered into the office.

A walk in the evening back to your apartment with no intention otherwise.

An invite to drinks that you actually attended. And enjoyed.

A private dinner with lingering looks and shared smiles.

Months of intentional time together led to a kiss outside your apartment door. A few nights later you let him inside. The next night you showered together.

Mouths seeking sensitive spots on your bodies; hands gripping a heavy, hardened cock; fingers stroking a swollen, aching clit. Fox came first, as you intended, and, to your frustrated surprise, he became single-mindedly focused on providing you a similar release. So much intense focus concentrated solely on you.

An awkward conversation ensued but Fox was undeterred. It was the moment you realized you had possibly fucked up. Fox would not give up. It was terrifying, yet also reassuring.

Nights spent in your bed, hands on skin, different vibrators tested and used. Sheets entangled around your sweaty bodies as he sunk into the heat of your cunt, as he rocked his hips against yours, as he hit a depth that had your eyes rolling and fingers clinging to the headboard.

Fox was patient and understanding, and he was so fucking persistent. You didn’t understand why it mattered so much to him. His cock in your cunt—his mouth on your breasts and his hands bruising your hips—was enough. But soon you found his head between your legs, the tip of his tongue on your labia, the flattened length of his tongue against your clit.

Persistence, apparently, was an inherited trait.

Wolffe entered your life and refused to leave. Dinners with Fox became dinners with both men. Evenings at a museum or the theater or the local greenhouse, or even a visit to 79s, included Wolffe. To your immense irritation, you couldn’t fault the commander per your usually successful attempts to push a man away.

He was respectful of your private time with Fox, he was understanding of your space, and he was consistent and intentional in spending time with you.

The commander whom you knew preferred silence went out of his way to talk with you. Probing questions you couldn’t entirely avoid. Prolonged discussions when you accidentally let something slip. Moments when you revealed too much about yourself which led to private conversations between you and both men. Intimate conversations.

To your utter confusion, Fox didn’t seem to mind Wolffe. Rather, he encouraged Wolffe’s presence.

Even though the persistent presence of two men of such single-minded intensity would typically scare you away, things were different with Fox and Wolffe.

“Fox,” you chastised. A low sound hummed in the back of his throat and he pressed you harder against the wall of his office, rolling his hardened cock into your stomach. “It’s late. I should go.”

Late was a gross underestimation. It was midnight and he shouldn’t be working but you knew your Fox. Driven and determined, he completed his work on time. No matter the inappropriateness of the hour.

“Don’t want you to leave,” Fox murmured.

He kissed you slowly, deeply, and you sighed, giving in to him. His lips trailed beneath your jaw and you lifted your head, your eyelids fluttering.

“Then come home with me,” you said.

“I have work I need to finish—”

“I know, but you need a break—”

“I want to—”

The door to his office swished open.

It was like a replay of that night so many months ago, except this time you were fully clothed. And this time Wolffe didn’t turn around and apologize. Hesitating for a brief second, he strolled to Fox’s desk and sat on the edge. A tiny smirk curved his mouth.

“Do continue,” he drawled. “I don’t mind a show.”

Fox stopped thrusting his hips into your stomach but he didn’t move away. His eyes were hooded, a small smile on his face as his thumb stroked your cheek.

“You wanna go home?” he asked. With a reserved smile, you nodded. “Then let’s go home.”

Wolffe joined the both of you on your way to your apartment. His presence wasn’t abnormal. If anything, it was familiar.

So you didn’t question it when he followed you into your bedroom, and you didn’t question it when Fox held your face and kissed you while Wolffe kissed your neck, and you didn’t question it when Fox started unbuttoning your loose shirt while Wolffe stood at your back, his hands running along your skin as he held onto your waist. His lips tickled the top of your ear and he tightened his hold on you.

“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he asked.

A shiver slid down your spine at the hoarse rasp of his voice. Your gaze locked onto Fox’s and he gave you a reassuring smile, his fingers still working the buttons on your shirt.

The answer was reflexive. “Yes.”

Clothes fell; fingers traced the contours of two bodies honed by war; lips and tongues skimmed your neck, collarbone, nipples. So much heat and attention embraced you three—warm skin pressed against yours, a hand between your legs, hands on your ass, teeth scraping your throat, bite marks sucked into your thighs.

Skin sweaty beneath your palms; muscles flexing at the light touch of your fingers; heads thrown back and throats bobbing. So much touching and masculine groans of praise—a lick along stomachs, squeezes to muscular biceps, bites to necks that unleased their waning restraint.

You found yourself in your bed. Legs thrown over Fox’s shoulders. A hand in his hair, the other curled into Wolffe’s muscular thigh.

Warmth lazed through your mind, a fog of pleasure and comfort dotting your thoughts like cotton balls.

Fox sucked on your labia and you jerked. Shocks of pleasure arced along your legs, fluttered in your cunt. The intense heat of a mouth sucked on the swell of your breast. Tingles tightened your nipples, the sensation arousing. Sloppy and unhurried, Wolffe licked a slow circle around your nipple, his hand on your throat, his thumb stroking the side of your neck.

“Gods,” you moaned.

“No gods here,” Wolffe said. His darkened gaze met yours and he smirked, nipping at your nipple and tugging it. “Just me and Fox.”

Your hips flexed and Fox chuckled against your cunt, strong hands pinning you to your bed. From between your legs, he raised his head. A drunken expression softened his features and he grinned lazily at you.

“Will you pray to us, mesh’la?” Fox teased.

His thumbs opened your labia and, eyes still on yours, he dragged the wet head of his tongue through your sensitized core. Spasms of pleasure erupted across your body and you moaned, closing your eyes.

Your attention was divided between the painful throb between your legs and the heavy tightness in your breasts. Your blood simmered from such unwavering attention, from the half-naked men running their hands down your body, licking and tasting the most intimate parts of you.

Pressure built deep inside of you, a wicked heat coiling tighter and tighter. Your stomach clenched. Your cunt pulsated.

Wolffe tugged on your opposite nipple, his large hand enveloping your breast and squeezing. The hand on your neck locked beneath your jaw, his thumb still stroking softly.

Skin afire, you gripped his thigh harder.

It was so much stimulation. Hot, wet mouths were in too many places. Calloused hands were massaging your hips, squeezing your breast harder, stroking your jawline.

Every nerve in your body was pulled taut. You were on an edge, teetering somewhere between painful bliss and intoxicating release.

“How does she taste, Fox’ika?” Wolffe asked.

Curiosity and dark hunger laced the rasp in his voice as he stared between your legs. He palmed himself—the bulge of his cock straining against the confines of his boxer briefs—and the sight alone made it harder to breathe.

“Good,” Fox groaned. He gripped your thighs and spread them open farther, leaning back so Wolffe could see your swollen clit and labia, see the arousal glistening your skin. “Look at her, Wolf’ika.”

Your heart raced in your chest, your cunt clenching at the lust-addled gazes of the two men. Wolffe released his hold on your neck and circled two fingers around your cunt. Your breath hitched and your hips arched for him, silently begging him to fill you. Instead, he pulled back and, eyes on yours, he tasted his fingers.

Eyelids fluttering, a low rumble of approval reverberated in his chest and Wolffe leaned forward, kissing you. You pulled him closer, clung to him, lost yourself to the feel of his lips. His tongue teased yours and he cupped your jaw, angling your face for himself so he could deepen the kiss. The domination in the kiss—the unrestrained passion in Wolffe—stole your thoughts until you were panting, crying out into his mouth at a sharp jolt of pleasure.

Fox circled his tongue around your cunt and then flattened it to your clit. He mouthed on your swollen nerve, sucked on it fervently.

The heat inside of you coalesced, mounted as your stomach tightened. Wound up into something so viciously tight that your eyes closed, your body tensing into hard lines. Fox pressed a thumb to your clit and you froze.

Relief swept through you and the tension cracked. Like ice breaking, you shattered.

Waves of ecstasy flowed through your body and a honeyed stream of bliss settled into your muscles, trickled into your bones. Distantly, you were aware of yourself moaning into Wolffe’s mouth, aware of Fox lifting your hips and lapping at your cunt.

Time elapsed in a daze of stroking touches and indolent kisses.

Warms hands clung to your hips. Pliant lips moved against yours. Boneless legs trembled as you straddled Fox. The wetness between your legs slickened his cock, and the possessive look on his face heated your blood.

The tip of his cock stretched your cunt. Head tilted back, tendons strained in his neck and he moaned. A hand between your legs teased your aching clit.

Slow increments, rocking and grinding, the stretch of his cock filled you. The fullness was prominent and the depth familiar. Your breath stuttered as your hips met his; air hissed between his teeth as his cock throbbed. Ardent fondness softened his expression as he held your gaze, his adoration palpable.

The beat of his heart thumped beneath your palm; muscles bunched in his stomach; a whimper fell from his lips; the wet heat of his mouth enveloped your nipple; pleasure spiked hot and blinding deep inside you.

Calloused palms skimmed your back and a hard cock rubbed against your ass. Murmured praises interspersed slow, lazy kisses down your spine.

Desperate brown eyes held your gaze as fingers grasped the nape of your neck and held you close. Held you closer until low pants groaned against your neck. Heat emanated from the two bodies entrapping you, the hands on your back and the mouth on your shoulder, the lips to your spine and the fingers grazing your clit.

Pressure coiled, harsh and brilliant, and you cried out, falling into the hands you trusted above all else. Waves of pleasure rolled from the base of your spine and outwards, and you moaned into Fox’s shoulder, losing yourself to the moment.

“Fuck,” Fox groaned, kissing your temple, brushing strands of hair from your face. A moment later and he was clinging to your hips, pounding up into you while he released himself. His chest heaved beneath yours and his hands shook slightly on your thighs, raspy praises fell from his lips.

Time, once again, elapsed, and, satiated and limp, you curled into Fox’s chest. A moment of reprieve, you basked in the two men surrounding you, the warmth of their skin, the gentle strokes of hands down your thighs.

From behind you, Wolffe started to chuckle, his hand stroking slow circles along your thigh. His own cock throbbed against your ass. “That was fast, huh, Fox’ika?”

The taunt earned a hard glare from Fox and, deciding it was a question of your loyalty, you pulled away from him. Whatever he saw in your face must have alerted him to your intention for he gave you a mischievous wink. Without preamble, you reached behind, slipped your hand into Wolffe’s boxer briefs, and squeezed his cock. Hard.

“Fuck!” Wolffe jerked, his fingers tightening around your thigh.

Grinning at a now amused Fox, you gripped Wolffe tighter, roughly working your palm along his length. He was thick, like Fox, and he sat heavy in your palm, hardened beneath silky skin.

“Mesh’la—” Wolffe warned.

His pants were hoarse, strained against your ear and you gently pinched the head of his cock, twisting it in your palm. Wolffe groaned low, agonized, and he gripped your thigh harder. Another squeeze and twist of your palm and then he was moaning, hips jerking erratically while hot, thick ropes of cum streamed between your fingers.

“That was fast, huh?” you teased.

Still panting, Wolffe rested his forehead into the crook of your neck. “Fuck.”

Chuckling, Fox guided your hand to his boxer briefs, encouraging your fingers to stroke his cock.

“My turn,” he murmured.

Squeezing his cock, you smiled. “I want you inside me.”

“Whatever—fuck—whatever you want, my mesh’la,” he groaned. With a soft kiss to your mouth, he pushed himself up. “Take a pill, Wolf’ika. We have work to do.”

Laughter burst forth from your chest and you watched Wolffe punch Fox. The latter threw a smarmy grin at his brother and then shucked off his boxer briefs, hauling you toward him. He gave you a fond smile, something small and only for you, and you smiled back, lowering yourself to your elbows as he skimmed a hand down your spine.

“Bet I can make her come faster,” Fox taunted.

Wolffe rolled his eyes, stroking his already hardening cock. He met your gaze and a darkly amused smirk spread across his face. He pressed a button on his chrono. “Doubt it.”

1 Year Later

“Good morning, my mesh’la,” Wolffe rasped.

The grumble of his voice so early in the morning made your toes curl. You smiled, clinging to the arm thrown over your body. Warm lips pressed against your throat and your eyes closed. An indolent swipe of his tongue caressed your collarbone, the thickness of his tongue pressing against your skin as he kissed your collarbone more fully.

Warmth eased down your spine and you sighed. Wolffe in the morning was so carefree. Alert yet attentive. His chest nestled against your back, a large hand caressing your lower stomach before skimming your ribs to grip your breast. The coarseness of his palm hardened your nipple and you breathed a quiet moan. Wolffe chuckled, the sound low and hoarse, as he trailed his lips beneath your jaw.

“You are so easy to please in the morning,” he murmured, smiling against your neck. His other hand entangled in your hair and he angled your head back, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “May I fuck you, mesh’la?”

Your eyelids fluttered open and you reached a hand behind, resting it on the muscular thigh entrapping you in his embrace. Across from you, curled on his side, slept Fox. Deep asleep, his features were relaxed. Unworried and at peace. Shafts of sunlight danced through his hair and the silver curls at his temples winked. You would have to be quiet, for him.

“You have to be slow,” you said quietly.

“I know.” Wolffe squeezed your breast, massaging it while he sucked on your throat. A low hum of pleasure sounded in his chest. “You know I know that.”

His thigh moved between your legs and he leaned forward, forcing your upper body to curve. The blunted head of his cock pressed against your cunt and he pushed forward. Fingers curling into the sheets, you gritted your teeth to muffle your gasp. The coolness of the lube allowed him easier access, allowed him to push inside of you without restraint. Still, the girth of his cock—the pressure in the morning—was so much. Too much.

“Wolffe,” you whispered.

“ ‘M sorry.”

He stilled, barely inside, and skimmed his lips along your shoulder. The thumb on your breast slowly circled your nipple. Wet kisses tickled your neck as he worked his way up your throat to your mouth. A teasing swipe of your tongue against his had him groaning into your mouth and his hips jerked.

A breathy moan escaped and you raised your arm behind your head, reaching for his hair. He thrust again, his cock easing in further, and you panted for air. Soft lips found the sensitive spot behind your ear and Wolffe nipped at your earlobe.

“How are you doing, mesh’la?”

He thrusted forward and this time his hand abandoned your breast, sliding between your legs to stroke your clit. White-hot pleasure spiked in your belly and your clit throbbed.

“Good,” you whispered.

Wolffe took the single word as invitation and pushed in until his hips rested snuggly against your ass. Your cunt fluttered around him—around the splitting fullness. You bit your pillow, trying to quiet your whimpers. Fox rustled but his eyes remained closed. Based on the low groan coming from the man behind you, the sound pained and starved, you wouldn’t have to worry about yourself waking Fox.

Pace slow, Wolffe skimmed his hand along your stomach, tracing light, leisure circles on the swells of your breasts, the sensitive areas on your ribs, grazing your clit every few minutes to arouse the aching nerve. The sound of his cock slipping in and out of your cunt—your arousal slickening him as you matched his rhythm—joined your stifled moans.

He sucked on your neck, hoarse groans vibrating your skin. Teeth scraped possessive marks, one hand stroked your clit again and you jerked at such a sensually light touch; the other hand massaged your scalp, gently tugging on your hair until your eyes were rolling in the back of your head.

Biting your pillow harder, you whimpered. The sound snapped something in Wolffe and he pushed you onto your stomach, flattening his chest to your back. His next thrust was harder, rougher. Your cunt convulsed around him and he hissed.

So much for not waking Fox.

“Fuck—” Wolffe panted in your ear, the noise so fucking pained and desperate. “C-Can’t get enough of you, mesh’la—”

Harsh groans filled your ear as Wolffe slammed into you. Faster. Harder.

He was unrestrained. Hands bruising your hips. Tongue licking your neck. His groans whimpering.

“Ah, fuck.”

He rammed into you harder, fucking slammed his cock deep inside of you. Over and over until you were gasping and moaning for more. Your muscles grew taut, your stomach coiled tight, heat licked at the base of your spine.

“Can’t stop—” Wolffe moaned louder and his fingers tightened in your hair. “Sorry—”

The sound of his moans, the utter desperation in his thrusts overwhelmed your senses. Your muscles bunched, your cunt clamped around his cock, and you cried into your pillow, back arching as a volatile heat snaked up your spine. Jerky thrusts from behind and Wolffe’s slurred praises in your ear plummeted you into a moment of pure, euphoric release.

A pained groan fell from his chest and Wolffe slammed into you a final time, his cock throbbing as he came. His thrusts slowed and he buried himself in your cunt, stilling above you.

Limp and slightly dazed, you were aware of his weight crushing your body. Aware of his heavy breaths warming your ear, of his cock still inside you, of the cum trickling between your legs and making a mess of the bedsheets.

With a deep sigh, Wolffe eased his cock from your cunt and rolled onto his side. Sharing in a satiated smile with the man whose hair was properly tussled, you turned your head to the other man in the bed.

Rich brown eyes blinked sleepily at you and a thumb stroked your cheek. Fox grinned, lowering his face to yours, giving you a long, slow kiss. You angled your head for him, sighing into his mouth. His hands urged you forward and you found yourself lying atop him, his arms a protective barrier around you.

“Morning, my mesh’la.” His voice was hoarse and his words slurred while his hands squeezed your thighs.

“Morning, love,” you said quietly, kissing the tender spot beneath his jaw.

A quiet groan escaped his mouth and his chin tilted to the ceiling, his eyes closing. His hands stroked your spine, fingers playing with a few strands of your hair. He leaned back against the headboard, his smile content, the streams of sunlight highlighting the wearied lines on his face and the circles beneath his eyes.

Early morning Fox was always so soft, his touches unrushed and lackadaisical as he started to wake. Unlike Wolffe, who was immediately alert the moment he woke, Fox needed time. In half an hour, though, and with Wolffe already making a mess of the bed, he would take a long time with you. Partially because he liked watching you unwind beneath him, and partially because he liked to spite Wolffe by keeping you to himself.

Beside you both, Wolffe lounged on the bed, the sunlight dancing along the dark planes of his naked body. A relaxed smile curved his face and he watched you through half-lidded eyes, his fingers playing with yours.

A year together had taught you one important thing: You could trust these men.

And if you had accidentally discovered a simple, silver ring hidden in Fox’s socks, and a matching band in Wolffe’s trousers’ pocket…

Well, you could trust them both with that, too.

#commander fox x reader #commander wolffe x reader #commander fox x reader x commander wolffe #commander fox x you #commander wolffe x you #my writings

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madameminor · 23 days

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Fox Fire - Commander Fox x f!reader - Chapter 1

Summary: In an effort to forget your on-again-off-again, you head out with your friends - and they're determined for you to meet one Commander Fox. After all, the quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

Commander Fox x f!reader

Tags: Smutty mcsmutterson. 18+. NSFW. "Basically, all the good stuff."

Warnings: Nothing this round. Just build up.

Notes: Ok hi! Dunno why I wanted to do this, but I did. I'm excited for the story. Post-war, everyone's ok, that sort of thing. Thank you so much to @dumfanting and @rains-on-kamino for beta-ing and keeping my creative juices flowing. I've tagged all the people on my IMWTO list, JIC you're interested in following this story too. If you are, comment. If you don't, I'll remove you for next chapter. Thank yoooou. Let's get this party started!

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You have to hand it to Chrisa. If her significant other didn’t work here, you would never have thought of coming to the Clone Bar for your night out - but it is PERFECT for what you need.

All the clones made it easy to clock strangers.

The entire vibe of the place is all about coming in and forgetting the world outside.

None of your or Marco’s mutuals would EVER just happen to be here.

AND

You have a bartender on your side, so if anyone gets too handsy or in your face - insta-boot.

The anger from earlier has simmered into resolve, and any excess is going to be worked out on the dance floor. You’d had enough to drink before coming out to loosen you up, but not to spiral you down. You. Look. FAN-TASTIC. Nothing pumps you up like looking your absolute best - and knowing it.

Damn right. It was time to have some fucking fun.

Your gaggle stride up to the front doors, Chrisa flashing the front doorman a smile and a kiss on the cheek before sliding on in. The thick togruta grins as he waves you all in, the lively music thrumming up through your shoes. OOooooo YES! Here we GO!

Lights, bass, people, ALL of it. You’ve missed it. Your spirits lift at the beautiful sight of fun.

Chrisa leads you past the first few bars, piled up with people, making her way towards a third bar closer to the back. You all follow, chatting away excitedly and looking out over the writhing sea of people. Your smile is genuine. You missed this. You missed them.

“Baaaaaabyyyyy!” your friend croons, leaning over the somewhat busy bar to kiss the bartender. The rest of you sidle up to the 3 empty seats between two groups of clones, offering your hellos.

“Well, look at this attractive group coming up to my bar,” the bartender, Ceese, says with a grin. Their eyes land on you. “Heard we’re celebrating tonight,” they say with a wink. “So let’s get you all started off on the right foot.”

Your girls cheer and you grin as Ceese sets out 6 double shots, filling them to the brim with your favorite alcohol. You laugh as each of your friends and Ceese all take a shot glass, gathering in close around you.

“To taking out ta poodoo!” Lehla toasts, holding out her shot.

“KRIFF TA POODOO!” Five clinks as you all cheers and down your shots. The liquid comfort slithers through your body, and you breathe a bit easier. THIS is fun. You’re safe here. You slink your arms around Freen and Sizie and hug them close. They smile and hold you tight while Ceese pours out your drinks.

“There you are, drinks are up, get out there!”

You all cheer and grab your drinks, Chrisa leaning up to kiss them thanks for all of you as your crew saunters off to the dance floor.

Lehla dives right into the center, turning to all of you, and, holding up her drink, proclaims with the gravity of a general headed into battle “Behbies, lets DANCE!!”

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Pulsing, beating, swaying, living. You laugh and twirl and thoroughly lose yourself in the pleasure of being out with your friends. This was amazing. This was life as it ought to be.

Only exhaustion and the need for another drink eventually pulls you off the floor, plunking you and your friends down into an open booth.

“More drinks, more drinks!” Sizie chants.

“Oh gods I can’t MOVE,” Freen whines as she leans back. She makes begging eyes at Lehla. Well, the Rodian equivalent. “Lehlaaaaa…”

Lehla good naturedly rolls her eyes. “ALright, alright. Chrisa, that's you and me. Lets go get the goods.”

Chrisa laughs and loops arms with hers, the two heading back to the bar.

You fan yourself, glancing over your two friends as they gab away with each other, taking a second to get your bearings. The anger is burning off now, leaving just the sadness, the hurt… but its nice to remember everything you gain by… well, by things changing. Change is good. You take a deep breath, letting the comfort settle back in.

“Why do they keep looking over here?” Sizie’s voice cuts through, curious.

You look over towards the bar and see Chrisa and Lehla chatting with Ceese and a few troopers - commanders by their pauldrons. Of course Chrisa knew the regulars, probably catching up. And, uh, they all keep looking over. At you. Specifically at you.

Uh oh. “Oh Mother, what are they up to…”

Freen laughs. “Knowing them, something AMAZING.”

Chrisa and Lehla hurry over, both with a mysterious glint in their eye. Chrisa plops down next to you while Lehla leans in with a smirk, hand on the table.

“Soooooo,” Chris says with a sly grin, “do you think that clones are attractive?”

You side-eye her suspiciously. “Why?”

“Weeeeell,” Chrisa tilts her head to the side, letting you see past her, “one of my ‘friends’ over there happens to be Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard.”

Your stomach tightens with regret.

You sigh, your forehead in your hand. “Chris, you know I don’t-”

She waves her hand at you. “-get on with law enforcement, I know I know. BUT,” she grins, holding a finger up to halt interruptions, “that’s long term. Fox is usually super busy, so he doesn’t really have much time for women in his life. Like, EVER.” She smirks with a small eye roll. “His team almost has to blackmail him to go out with them and relax - and that almost NEVER involves a woman. But that doesn't mean he hasn’t had off-ers,” she says in a sing-song voice. The others giggle as they glance off towards where the Commander sits.

Chris continues. “SO. It wouldn’t be for long- a fling, a jaunt, a roll in the hay, something cas-u-al-and-FUN!” She emphasizes each syllable to get her point across. “You need this. Something different to show you that you can actually be HAPPY in bed, with someone who actually CARES.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How the heck do you know he ‘cares’?”

She grins again. “I’ve known him for a loooong time. And on the rare occasion that he’s drunk enough to loosen up and actually go home with someone, they ALWAYS come in again talking about how GOOD he is.”

You blink in surprise, and a little shock. “People talk about that?

She shrugs good-naturedly. “Bunker bunnies do. No judgement, they just like to try ‘all the clone flavors’.” She winks. “And I love to hear the gos about the regulars.”

You smirk as the others laugh. Trust Chrisa to be the bar gossip gatherer.

“So, what, you want me to hope he gets drunk, present myself to him and say ‘hi, my ex is an ass and I broke up with him today. Wanna fuck?’”

“Oh NO,” Chrisa pulls a face, “I wouldn’t suggest it if it was that impersonal. See, apparently…” she leans her cheek on one hand, grin glistening with mischief. “He’s been looking over at you all night.”

You blink. You try to sneak a look over to the bar to try and catch a glimpse of this Commander Fox. Two of the red and white clad clones start waving and pointing excitedly between them at the seated one beside them, facing away with what looks like his forehead in his hand. You’re sad you can’t see his face, but you can’t help but smile to yourself. You kind of know how he feels.

“And he’s… cute?” You say hesitantly.

Chrisa perks up and grins. “Oh YEAH. I’ve definitely glanced at him a time or two, don’t tell Ceese.”

“And… safe?”

“YES,” Chris almost huffs a whine in exasperation. “Who do you think I am??”

Well…

It’s not what you normally do…

…but you ARE trying to do things differently this time…

Just one conversation? You didn’t even have to say yes…

He could be cute…

You look around at your friends' faces. Are any of them unsure about this? Would any advise you that this wasn’t a good idea?

Nope. All of their eyes are excited, almost pleading.

“...ok. I’ll at least talk to him.”

You friends all burst out with a “YES!” You smirk and shake your head. Jeez, you didn’t think you needed it THAT bad.

Chrisa stands and gives a thumbs up to the two clones waiting at the bar. They both pump fists in the air before leaning down to talk to the hunched Commander- who simply punches one of them in the arm without looking over at him. You laugh to yourself. Yeah, you definitely know THAT feeling. The poor guy.

Whatever they say to him, it apparently seems to work. He begrudgingly turns around on his stool and stands, grabbing his helmet. One of his men claps him on the shoulder, which he pushes off angrily before taking a deep breath, turning, and starting his way over to where you and your friends sit.

You feel your breath catch a bit in your chest, something your girls notice with a smirk. He’s GORGEOUS. His hair isn’t standard clone cut - its a bit longer on top and down the back, the sides cropped short. You can see whisps of gray at the side of his temples, almost looking like highlights, making him seem more mature. He has a scar across one cheekbone adding to an authoritative air - but not oppressive or dismissive. His eyes are a beautiful amber brown, serious, but not cynical. And, you notice with a small smile, right now he looks just a little bit… sheepish.

A man like this has been watching you? A trooper who doesn’t normally take girls home had seen you and not been able to disguise it from his overeager companions? You feel yourself preen internally as he finishes making his way over.

“Commander Fox, meet the rest of my besties - Freen (she waves), Sizie (a nod and smile), and of course, The-woman-you’ve-been-staring-at-all-night.”

He glances at her with annoyance as your friends laugh. You extend a hand out to shake his hand with your introduction.

“Its… very nice to meet you.” He nods, resigning to the awkwardness of being caught.

“Well, we’ll get out of your hair so you two can get acquainted,” Chrisa simpers. You give her a ‘stop that’ look as she and the girls all file out with winks and excited grins. Sizie even seems to shake little pom poms, mouthing “go, girl, go!”

You play a bit with one earring as you look back at him.

“Sorry about them,” you smile. “Teasing is their love language.”

He snorts with a glance back at them, relaxing a bit. “I know the feeling.”

You chuckle despite yourself. He seems to relax a bit, a smirk playing on his authoritative features.

“Would you care to step into my office, Mr. Fox?”

He chuckles this time, giving you a quick appreciative glance before sitting down across from you, placing his helmet by his side.

“Excuse me.” A service droid waddles up with two drinks - one your usual, the other looks like a whisky neat for him. You look at it, confused, while it sets them on the table.

“Compliments of the bartender, with the accompanying message-” says the matter of fact tinny voice. “‘-Make out already-’.” You look up to the crowd of onlookers from the bar giving you both a thumbs up.

You show them a different finger.

They all burst out laughing, but get the hint and go back to each other.

You turn back, catching an impressed smirk while he gazes at you.

“You sure showed them.”

You chuckle while you take a sip of your drink.

“So,” you smile, “come here often?”

He snorts an appreciative chuckle before shaking his head and indicating the two Corries at the bar. “Enough. Though not as much as my men would like.”

You chuckle, glancing over at the excited huddle. “I didn’t know the men of the Coruscant guard were so invested in their Commander’s R&R.”

A sigh and an eye roll, another sip of his drink. “Apparently getting away from work is ‘necessary’ for a healthy, ungrumpy lifestyle.” You nod sagely, indicating you see the sarcasm. “Just my luck to have the subordinates that actually care about my work-life balance.”

“Luck seldom has anything to do with things like that,” you smile, leaning your cheek on your hand. You know what garners unerring loyalty and hard work. You know the kind of leader it takes to make men march into danger- just to drag that S.O. to the bar afterwards - the kind who men take care of, because he took care of his men. “You must be a great commander if they worry about you so much.” And smart, and firm, but kind under it all, and… hoo, slow down honey.

For some reason, looking at him, knowing what it takes to be a leader, to be someone who watches out for others, you feel compelled to say something you’ve never said before.

“Thank you. For your service.”

His head quirks to the side, eyes interested as they take you in. “I can’t really take much credit for that… it wasn’t entirely my choice, you know.”

You chuckle. “Perhaps not. But I’ve heard of clones who have sought other lives now that the war is over and your rights have been won - can’t blame them at all. I understand not wanting to do what you’re ‘born for’.” You unconsciously watch the bubbles in your drink for a moment before realizing your thoughts are straying, looking back into his intrigued eyes. “So you did have a choice. And you chose to help the people of Coruscant.” You smile, and shrug. “So, for whatever it's worth, thank you.”

“Hm.” He smiles thoughtfully, regarding you for a moment while he takes a sip of his drink. “Actually, coming from you, it means a lot more,” his eyes take you in again, admiring, intrigued, inviting.

It sends a happy warmth through your insides.

He sets his drink down again, folding his arms and leaning in on his elbows. “So. Born for, huh? Tell me, what were you ‘born for’?”

You smirk, waving a hand in dismissal. Definitely a cop. “Nothing that I’m doing. But I’m an event planner.” You shrug, knowing it doesn’t sound like much to someone who regularly risks their life.

“Hm,” he answers, intrigued. Like actually intrigued. “Can’t say I’ve ever met someone in that field before. What’s your favorite part of the job?”

Hm. You can’t help your smile. No one ever really cares to hear about this part. “Well,” you think, having a genuine look at your chosen profession, “I meet a fair amount of different, interesting people. I'm more active and involved than other jobs, I get to create something, after a fashion, get to create beauty and harmony for people to celebrate or commemorate something.” And you do it well, you know you do. You’re proud of the work you do. “Its satisfying. Like I’m doing good in my own way.”

He smiles at that.

“‘Interesting people’, huh? Have any good stories?”

“Hah,” you chuckle. “Oh do I.” You perk up, leaning in conspiratorially. “And in your line of work, you probably know some of the main antagonists.”

His eyes definitely light up with interest.

Pulling no punches, you dive into tales about Senators, big wigs, their staff, their relatives, the drama before, during, and after. His laughter is all the more hearty knowing who you're talking about. He even thanks you once for making him laugh so hard he cries about a particular Senator from Naboo and a Jedi getting told off for inappropriate use of an ice sculpture.

Knowing you know the main players, he pays you back 10 fold with his own stories- ridiculous requests, entitled children put in their place, the shenanigans his men pull when they think he isn't aware. You swap stories back and forth, relaxing in each others company, unwittingly moving closer together.

He’s nice, you keep thinking. He’s cute. He’s serious, but can laugh. You wonder… what he’s like when he’s alone, in the dark, laying in his own bed...

You only realize how long its been when you take a sip of your drink only to find the cold, watery dregs of melted ice. As you glance into your glass, with a small curse, you hear him say quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself:

“How anyone could do something stupid enough to lose a woman like you is beyond me.” He says quietly, almost to himself. You duck your head, a bit bashful, but keep your eyes up. So he’s feeling it too. He still wants you. He… he likes you.

Maybe its knowing that, or maybe its the drinks. Or both. But suddenly you feel… sexier.

You look up at him through your eye lashes.

“Is it alright if I… get more comfortable?”

His eyes spark with excitement and intrigue. “Of course,” he says quietly.

You close the small distance and slide into his lap, your back to the (you are totally sure) excited onlookers.

You feel your heart pounding at the closeness, skin electric at your own daring.

“Is this alright?”

“Yes.” His voice is much deeper than it was. “More than alright.”

“Good,” you smile, one hand tracing behind his neck, lightly trailing through his curls. He gently places his hand on your leg, his coarse gloves ticking along your thigh, bewitched eyes starting to turn ravenous.

‘You are absolutely stunning,” he breathes, voice low and serious.

You smile bashfully. “Thank you, its true.”

He lifts his hand and cups your neck, thumb tracing the length of your throat.

“I definitely, definitely want to kiss you right now.”

You place a finger against his lips. He smirks, slowly opening his mouth to lightly bite your fingertip. You breath catches at the small, sensual gesture. His eyes darken at the sound, his teeth releasing you.

“Kriff, mesh’la. I’m going to take such good care of you tonight.”

He kisses you.

It's like a fire has started in your blood, burning away anything that isn’t this moment right here. You want him. You want him so badly, with his locks between your fingers and his teeth on your throat and his cock in your-

And you can. Because there is absolutely nothing holding you back.

You pull away just enough that your words ghost against his lips. “Do you want to get out of here… Commander?

His kiss is more insistent this time, ending with a small bite pulling your lower lip.

“More than anything.”

You slide off of him before taking him by the hand. He barely looks away from you as he grabs his helmet and dutifully follows you out of the club.

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Just-this-once taglist:

@ladykatakuri @ben-is-a-hoe @klay97 @kaitou2417 @dumfanting @kuromisheart @koifish08 @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @badbatch-simp24 @pointy-sharp @rainytears2 @gabile18 @nedxwynert @chopper-witch @nexxxxxxxxx @nightscissor @corona-one @babypandasugar22 @pumpkinkpatch @oohyesplease @princessclaire2 @just-a-shit-ton-of-trama @badbatch-simp24 @foreverhockeytrash @unholy-t-rin-ity @reeny26 @smurderous @xxeiraxx @discarded-beskar @just-an-anxious-ball-of-flesh @mybigfatspoonielife @whore4rex @andyoufollowyourheart @lokigirlszendaya @captain-splock-you @darkangel4121

@gluwu @stormweather99 @redpool @mysanityleaving @alwayssnivellus @chickentenderx @scioness-7 @moniicarlo @nekotaetae @cjoftheriver @ladykagewaki @charlie-boo @aconstructofamind @pb-jellybeans @burningfieldof-clover @thegirlwholovedblackholes

#madame writes #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #f!reader #the clone wars smut #commander fox smut #Fox fire #tcw fox fire

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vodika-vibes · 4 months

Note

Heyyyy!

Are you doing preference lists? Or idk what’s the name for those lol

So I was thinking about what nicknames would the clones give to the reader?

I love your fics and I hope u have a wonderful 2024!

Nicknames

Pairings: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader, Commander Fox x Reader, Alpha-17 x Reader, Crosshair x Reader, Clone Commando Sev x Reader

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So I think you're asking for headcanons (at least I hope that's what you're asking for or else I'm answering this all wrong, lol). Since you didn't give a list of which clones you wanted, I'm going to just pick a few. Sev's feels a little awkward, honestly, but I'm still kinda happy with it.

ARC Trooper Fives x Reader - Mesh'la

The first time the unfamiliar word slipped from Fives lips when he was speaking to you, you didn't think anything of it. Fives uses basic and mando'a interchangeably at times, and while frustrating, Fives doesn't have a problem translating for you when you ask.

This time, however, this time when you asked what the unfamiliar word meant (the word falling clumsily from your tongue as you tried to mimic the way he said it) he dropped his datapad and wouldn't look you in the eye.

"Fives?" You ask, "Is it...is it bad? The thing you called me?"

"No!" He blurts his eyes suddenly wide, "No. It's...it's a good thing. It...uh..." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, "It means beautiful."

You stare up at him, startled, and then you smile fondly, "You think I'm beautiful?" You ask.

He laughs and favors you with a smile, "How could I not?" He reaches out and lightly brushes the back of his fingers against your cheek, "My mesh'la."

Commander Fox x Reader - Angel

Commander Fox is such a hard worker, always in his office, even on days when he's supposed to be resting. Even when his brothers beg him to take a day off.

He works so hard, in fact, that the first time he calls you Angel you're pretty sure it's because he forgot your actual name. You don't mind. Well, you're a little hurt, you've been working with his for months now and him forgetting your name is like a punch to the gut, but you've always been a bit of a pushover when it comes to Fox.

And then he keeps calling you Angel.

Day after day. Multiple times in a singular conversation.

And you finally have to say something.

He smiles at you, soft and warm and so very fond, "I know what your name is." Fox says as he leans over you and tucks some of your hair behind your ear, "I call you Angel, because that's what you are. My Angel. My whole reason for showing up everyday. My whole reason for fighting in this war. Does it bother you?"

And you find, suddenly, that you don't mind the nickname at all.

Alpha-17 x Reader - Little Love

Working alongside Alpha-17 has always been easy. Sure, it leads to long days and even longer nights, where you bicker and bump heads about everything, but you respect the hell out of Alpha-17, and you know (hope) that he respects you too.

Which is why the sudden nickname startles you so badly.

"I...beg your pardon?" You ask, your eyes wide as you look up at the much larger man.

Alpha rests his chin on the palm of his hands, and watches you with an exhausted smile, "I asked," He repeats, his voice a low rumble, "if you would hand me the datapad on your left," a lazy smirk crosses his face, "Little Love."

"Since when do you call me-?"

He shoots you a thoughtful look, "Since today, I suppose. Is that okay?"

You duck your head, and release a quiet laugh, "Yeah, I think it's a great nickname. Though it's not really true..."

He leans across the table, his gaze serious as he looks you in the eye, "Then lets make it true. You and me."

And, really, how can you say no to that.

Crosshair x Reader - Sweetheart, Kitten

Crosshair is an asshole. He's always been an asshole, he'll likely always be an asshole. At least he's honest about his assholery, you suppose.

Still, you could do without him calling you sweetheart like it's an insult. It's supposed to be a petname! Not an insult!

You know better than to pick arguments with Crosshair. You do! Months of traveling with him have proven that arguing with his is an exercise in futility. But you just can't help it. He's finally pushed you to the edge.

So here you arm, your arms folded over your chest, having a raging shouting match with Crosshair.

...well, you're shouting at him, he's just goading you and making you angrier. And still, still, he's calling you sweetheart! Like...like some villain from a gangster movie.

Fed up with his bullshit, you go to push past him, wanting to remove yourself from the situation before you say, or do, something foolish, but Crosshair moves, and pins you against the wall before you even realize what's happening.

You bite your tongue to stop the flood of curses you want to spit at him, and he smirks at you, "Aww, Kitten. Where'd your claws go?"

And all of the fight drains from your body as your face burns. You were wrong, Kitten is a much worse nickname than Sweetheart.

Clone Commando Sev x Reader - Sarad

For such a hard and rough around the edge man, Sev is surprisingly tender with you. Always the first person to offer you a compliment (even when you look/feel gross and just want to shower and curl up on the couch) and always so very gentle with you, as though terrified that he might hurt you if he's not careful.

And so his nickname for you isn't the least bit surprising.

Sarad. Flower.

At the time you laughed, "Because I'm small and frail?" You teased him, even as you leaned against his solid body and accepted his gentle affection.

"Because you're beautiful. And perfect, just like a flower." Sev corrected, as he brushed his thumb against your cheek, as gently as one would brush their fingers against a flower petal.

And just like that, you fell deeper into love with your stern and hard, and somehow oh so sweet man.

#star wars #tcw #arc trooper fives x reader #commander fox x reader #alpha-17 x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #clone commando sev x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 7 months

Text

Midnight Masquerade - Invitation

Summary: You receive a mysterious invitation to an equally mysterious costume party off-world. While you don't normally do things like this, you're glad you decided to attend this party, especially once you realize what you stand to gain.

Warnings: reader is a monsterfucker; monster!clone au; unexplained Force magic potions; alcohol consumption; this intro is pretty tame but minors DNI regardless; individual chapters will be tagged with specific kinks and additional warnings

Word Count: 2.8k

MDFM's masterlist | Suggested listening for this series

You’d been distracted all day, mind fixated on the mysterious invitation and accompanying note you returned home to last night. A simple rectangle of orange paper, the invitation’s words spun dizzying circles in your mind: “Come not as you are...but as you wish to be.” The note, signed simply from “your favorite trooper,” explained that the proclaimed “midnight masquerade” is for a costume party to be held today, off-world—but that’s the extent of the information you know.

Maker, you don’t normally do things like this. Granted, you don’t often have time to do things like this; working as a senatorial aide leaves much to be desired in terms of a healthy work/life balance. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve been feeling stuck lately, wishing for something greater, something better, something more, to happen to you.

Which brings you here, to the mystery destination. The ship you’d chartered on Coruscant had given you a gorgeous view from space of this planet, a giant crystal ball, glimmering pastel blue in the light of the local star. Up close, though, the landscape is even more breathtaking. Towering spires of crystal glow from the inside in shades of white, blue, and purple. As you step tentatively toward the nearby town, the ground crunches underfoot, as though you walk over a field of tiny crystals. Jaw hanging open, a rush of awed excitement pours through you, electric and hot.

The town itself looks almost out of place. Curving durasteel and plaster walls clash in harsh juxtaposition with the natural landscape. So far, you’ve seen no signs of other people or the planet’s native inhabitants. Swallowing thickly, you do a full 360. Anxiety begins to churn in your stomach. Thoughts, each darker than the last, chase each other in circles in your mind. In your palm, you clutch the invitation so hard it crumples.

“Hello there,” a singsong, ethereal voice calls.

“Kriff!” You nearly jump out of your skin.

“I did not mean to startle you,” the voice says. A moment later, a tall, slender being emerges from behind one of the nearby pillars. Skin almost the same shade of blue as the crystal, they smile at you with such otherworldly beauty that you find you can’t breathe properly. Standing easily ten feet tall, they seem to glide forward, robes of pure black draping over their body like shadows, iridescent hair cascading down their back.

“Do you carry an invitation?”

You blink dumbly. “Um. Y-Yes. Here.” You hurry to smooth out the piece of paper before presenting it.

Their cloudy eyes drift serenely down to the paper. “Excellent. Right this way. There are many who have already arrived.”

Turning, they begin to meander towards town. You rush to catch up. As you approach the cluster of buildings, you notice signs of the party that was promised. Bassy music thrums up through the soles of your feet, and the scent of mulled cider tantalizes your nose and taste buds alike. But still a worm of anxiety wriggles within you.

“Sorry, but, what exactly is this party?”

The strange being’s gaze caresses your face. “It is a most sacred ceremony in celebration of life, during a time in which death is closest. The spirits grow restless; we do our best to placate them through dressing in costume, among other things.”

As a senatorial aide, you’ve had many years’ practice of schooling your expression into polite neutrality. It’s a mask you wear well. You find yourself donning it now. While you don’t discount the possibility of veils between planes, spirits, and the like—not to mention the Force, not with the Jedi constantly in the Senate—you personally harbor no such beliefs.

“Understood,” you say.

The being chuckles, a pleasant, tinkling sound, like a wind chime in the evening breeze. “Not yet. But you soon will.” They glide to a halt in front of a large building, from which the sounds and smells of merriment emanate. “Here I leave you.”

In the time it takes for you to approach the door and turn back to thank your guide, they’ve vanished. A shiver snakes up your spine. “Creepy.”

The blaring, synth-rock music is a physical force to the chest as you push the door open. Where the landscape outside is a swirl of crisp, crystalline blues, the interior is a foggy expanse lit by hues of rich violet, burnt orange, and vivid green. Gnarled, bare trees dot the large room as decoration. Several dozen high-top tables cloaked in tattered cloths are laden with food and drink.

Perhaps most striking, though, are the dozens upon dozens of troopers in costume.

Door falling shut behind you, you can’t contain your wide, incredulous smile. As you begin to step toward the dance floor, you catch sight of Mayday, Hexx, and Veetch adorned in identical Frankenstein’s-monster-like face paint. Through a break in the crowd, you spot Kix carrying far too many shots in one hand, dressed as—a slutty nurse? You blink to make sure you saw that right.

Interspersed throughout the crowd are a handful of other nat-borns. You recognize none of them.

Someone grabs your arm. Jerking your head around, you heave a relieved sigh at the familiar sight of Rex. Atop his head rests a wire halo. His body is dressed in a loose, draping white toga, with fluffy white wings protruding from his back.

Your eyebrows shoot up, both in amusement and in genuine joy to see your friend. “Rex! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I lost a bet,” he admits with a cavalier smile. “Come on, we’ve got a spot saved for you.”

Chest warming at his words (and definitely not at the glimpse of his partially bare, toned torso), you follow eagerly. Around you, costumed clones chatter away, sip drinks, and just generally appear far more relaxed than you’ve ever seen any of them before.

Near the edge of the room, lower tables have been set with seating and peculiar centerpieces. Glowing from within, the vase-like decorations sprout darkened and decaying flowers, stuck through with glitter bats, cats, and pumpkins—an odd assortment for a crystalline planet, but you’re distracted from the thought when you spot the table Rex leads you to.

“When you said ‘we,’ I thought—”

“Torrent Company?” He flashes a wry grin over his shoulder. “Not quite. Gotta keep you on your toes, mesh’la.”

Squished around a table that is far too small for all of them are another ten troopers. Present are the entirety of Clone Force 99—a rare sight to see them sitting still; Commanders Cody, Wolffe, and Fox—your knees weaken when you realize you’ve never actually seen Fox without his helmet; and, deep in discussion, Fives and Sister, both of whom you’ve developed budding friendships with.

Rex squeezes into the booth between Cody and Fives.

Jostled by his captain’s return, Fives glances around. His expression brightens when he sees you. “There’s our favorite aide!” he calls.

Emboldened by his attention, you snag a nearby chair and pull it up to the last bit of free space at the table. To your left, Wolffe arches one severe eyebrow. His skin shines with a gray pallor, and a dark, twisting crown rises out of his curls. Black robes that look suspiciously like General Koon’s wrap around his body. To your right, Echo, dressed to the nines in a custom-tailored suit with red bowtie, gives you a genuine smile and nod. The rest of the troopers cheer or raise their glasses to you, welcoming you to the party.

“About time you showed up,” Fox deadpans.

Someone pushes a shot into your hands. “What, didn’t think I’d miss getting blackmail material on you all, did you?”

As the others whoop and holler, Fox fixes you with a flat stare; around his eyes glint realistic scales, painted the same hue of red as his armor. Segmented horns curl up from his graying hair. As he lifts his drink to his lips, you catch the tiniest nod of appreciation from him. Your entire body flushes in satisfaction.

Maker, this bunch is going to be the death of you.

You let yourself get swept into the current of the conversation. For the most part, you content yourself to listen. Occasionally one of them will ask you for input from a senatorial perspective, and they all seem to value what you have to add. But you’re more than happy just to observe. While each and every one of them are absolute stunners in regular life, tonight they all look divine, glowing with relaxation and costume makeup.

Most of their costumes are easy to parse together. Rex and Cody seem to have coordinated, Cody dressed as a devil to counter Rex’s angelic nature; Hunter has opted to dress as a werewolf halfway in the process of transforming; on Crosshair’s neck you spy two pinpricks of fake blood; Tech has donned a blood-spattered lab coat and swapped his usual yellow-tinted glasses for swirled ones; and the scales on Fox’s bare skin reveal his inner dragon. But you can’t quite pin down what Wrecker, Echo, Sister, Wolffe, and even Fives have dressed as.

With a shrug, you assure yourself you’ll find out at some point.

You knock back the shot at last and grimace as it burns down your throat. Cody slides you another with a dangerous wink; you raise an eyebrow and shoot him a wink of your own. The deep, pulsing thrum of the music washes through you, and you let it control the rate of your heart. And you miss, or perhaps choose to ignore, the lingering looks they all give you, the ones that trail down your body and study your face with equal intensity. Heat, stoked by their looks and the liquid courage, simmers below your skin.

The barest hint of an idea begins to form in your tipsy, buzzing brain.

When Fives shoots you a conspiratorial smirk, raising his glass in a toast to you, you enact the half-formed plan. From the cluster of finger foods at the center of the table, you pluck a skewered olive, lift it to your mouth, and, eyes boring into Fives’s, make a show of licking the salty snack before wrapping your lips around it. Fives sputters and chokes on his drink.

“Mesh’la,” Wolffe grits out, a warning note in his gravelly voice.

You turn wide, innocent eyes on him. “Something the matter, Commander?”

His grip on his glass tightens, to the point you worry he’s going to shatter it. Resisting the urge to wilt under his mismatched glare, you snag another olive and suck it into your mouth in much the same manner as the first. Wolffe breaks first, glancing away.

Around the table, the rest of them shift in their seats, acting like they didn’t all just watch you practically give head to those poor olives. Stifling a smirk of your own, you lean back, satisfaction lingering in your veins. After a moment, the conversation resumes its ebb and flow around you.

You’re not sure how much time passes before the music quiets and a dreamy, floating voice comes over the speakers. “Revered guests, now is the time for you to decide whether you will cross the shadowed veil and experience another form of living. Potions will be provided for consumption. You may notice that you become more than a mere costume. Be assured, the potion’s effects are temporary.

“One final word of caution: in the case of sexual coupling, it is inadvisable for more than one person to partake of the potion.”

A buzz of confused, excited chatter whispers across the assembled crowd. At the mention of possible intimacy, your skin flushes, heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Whoever had been speaking has just dredged up the unspoken thing between you and every person at your table. An idea begins to bloom in your mind, spurred on by the alcohol in your system, the bone-rattling music, the sweet scent of the fog machines, the looks they’ve been giving you all night. You glance, suddenly shy, and find Rex already looking at you with concern slanted across his brow. With a smile, you relax.

“I’ll get the potions!” Sister clambers out of her seat and disappears into the crowd. She reemerges several minutes later carrying a tray of shot glasses, each filled with a murky, swirling liquid. You grimace at it when she hands you one.

“We’re supposed to drink this?” you mutter, voice drowned out as the music resumes its previous volume.

Wrecker sniffs at his glass. “It smells nice. Herbal and fruity.”

Rex catches your attention again. “Maybe just one of us should try it first.”

You’re about to affirm what a good idea that is, when Cody’s gaze shifts from you to someone behind you. Turning, you watch as one of the Wolfpack downs the thick drink in one go. For a moment, nothing happens, and then his entire body shudders violently. You must have blinked, because suddenly he’s no longer fully corporeal, and instead floats a few inches above the ground, his body and clothes gray vapor and mist. You realize with a start that the entire squad is costumed similarly to Wolffe; he’s the only one wearing a crown.

Next to you, Wolffe heaves a sigh at the same time that Fives and Sister gasp out, “Wizard!” The two of them share a conspiratorial grin, then, clinking their glasses together, throw back the mystery shot.

The same odd shudder-and-blink phenomenon happens to them. In place of Fives’s plastic horns and fabric tail are suddenly real, bony horns protruding from his forehead and a writhing, leathery pointed tail. Sister’s nature-themed costume sprouts living flowers. Her braided hair becomes a mass of vines.

“It appears that the drink turns you into your costume,” Tech observes, one finger raised.

“I would have never known,” Crosshair snarks. He, too, downs his shot. Skin growing paler, the mock wound at his neck dries into faded scars. When he flashes you a smirk, two pointed canines poke from between his lips. Arousal shoots through you with sudden heat, your core clenching.

One by one, the troopers around you down their potions, until you’re the last one left. Mulling over the announcement, you weigh your options. You’d be a liar if you said you haven’t had a few...indecent thoughts since arriving tonight. But you know none of these troopers would hold it against you if you decided to drink the potion and similarly transform.

Twirling the glass in your fingers, you shake your head to clear it and set the drink on the table.

“I have a proposition for you all,” you say, leaning forward. You preen a little when you see you have their rapt attention. Confidence surges through you, hot and languid and bold. A smile curls over your face.

“I’ve always wanted to know how a monster fucks.”

For a brief moment, the table remains draped in silence, punctuated only by the nearby raucous shouts of other clones and the heady, bassy music. Then, all at once—

Tech, always aiming for precision: “Technically, we are not monsters, but rather realistic imitations of them.”

Crosshair, snarky and smug: “Really think you could handle it, doll?”

Cody, one stern eyebrow raised: “Is that so, mesh’la?”

Sister blushes a wonderful shade of red, giggling as she reaches up to close Fives’s hanging jaw. Hunter squints at you. In the strobing multicolored lights, his eyes seem to reflect like an animal’s. Only Wolffe and Echo seem to have maintained their composure, though you catch the dangerous smirk toying at Echo’s lips.

As the initial outburst of reactions subsides, Fox snorts, a gasp of smoke puffing from his now-elongated snout. “That sure was a funny way of begging, little one.”

“I only beg for those who earn it, Commander Fox,” you say, a little too sweetly, judging by the way his eyes—dark and reptilian and piercing—rove your features.

Rex clears his throat, drawing your attention back towards him. Your breath catches; in the chaos of everyone transforming into their costumed selves, you’d somehow missed the finer details of Rex’s new form. The fluffy white wings, formerly attached by elastic, now rest gently against his back, shifting as he adjusts in his seat. Floating above his head, casting his face in radiant beauty, the halo burns in a miniature solar flare.

“All you have to do is say the word, mesh’la,” he says.

Swallowing, the trickling realization of what you’ve gotten yourself into finally sinking in, you shake your head. You dart up from your seat and rush to a nearby trash receptacle. Thankfully, you don’t have to dig, the object you need resting near the top.

You return to the table with an empty bottle. Eleven near-identical expressions of dismay and confusion clear as you settle back into your seat and rest the bottle on the table in front of you.

“Let’s let fate decide.”

You spin the bottle, watching, mesmerized and anxious, as it rotates in a blur, before coming to a rest, its neck pointing at...

...Crosshair

...Fives

...Echo

...Sister

...Tech

...Rex and Cody

...Wrecker

...Fox

...Wolffe

...Hunter

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